Ten Too Many
by RobinL
Summary: Some women can't handle one husband. Hermione is getting ten. Thank you very much, Voldemort. Marriage Law meets Harem!Hermione. Post-DH. Hermione x Harry, Lucius, Draco, Kingsley, Gregory G., Rodolphus, Cormac, Neville, Arthur and Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Ten Too Many

**Author**: RobinL (flibbins)

**Pairings**: Hermione/Multi (Arthur Weasley, Lucius Malfoy, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Rodolphus Lestrange, Severus Snape, Cormac McLaggen, Gregory Goyle, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter)

**Summary**: Voldemort was defeated, but he left a parting gift. The _Purgatio_ was designed to eliminate the unworthy, but ended up taking most of the population and almost all of the witches. Desperate to salvage their world, the Ministry takes drastic steps. Hermione will find if her heart has enough room to love ten husbands.

**Disclaimer**: _The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

**Story Warnings**: This story will contain mature content with regard to sexual situations and language. It will be edited to conform with an M (R) rating on this site. The MA (NC-17) version of this story is posted on GrangerEnchanted and you can find a link in my bio page. Those chapters which differ will be marked.

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><p><em>That awkward moment when you find out you're marrying your boyfriend's father.<em>

**CHAPTER ONE**

Hermione sat in the basement kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, staring at nothing. Her hands were wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long gone cold, but she probably shouldn't drink it anyway. Her nerves were already on edge.

Though it was still early, Harry stumbled into the kitchen, rousing Hermione from her thousand-yard stare. "Morning, Mione," he mumbled as he shuffled to the coffee pot. Neither of them were much use before they'd caffeinated in the morning.

Harry was in a pair of pajama bottoms and sporting a bad case of bedhead. By now, Hermione hardly noticed that he was half naked, though most mornings she could appreciate that he had a nicely muscled chest. Nor did she feel awkward in her tiny tank top and sleep shorts, even though she wasn't wearing a bra. Months of living in close quarters with the boys had made them all quite comfortable with each other.

Even now that the war was over, and Voldemort finally defeated, the three of them were staying together in Harry's house. Well, Ron had moved back home a few weeks ago and she would probably be leaving after today. Though she wasn't certain where she'd be living tomorrow.

"Today's the big day, isn't it?" Harry settled into the seat across from her, sipping his hot drink.

Nodding, she took a sip of her own and immediately wished she hadn't. It was ice cold.

Of course she'd been sitting there for over an hour, long before she normally rose.

Today was the big day.

The Ministry was sending the owls out today that would seal her fate. The wait was agonizing.

It had been over a month since all of the surviving witches and wizards submitted a blood sample to the Ministry for matching. Two months ago the hotly contested law, which would see her married and pregnant long before she was ready, had been passed through the new Wizengamot. Three months ago the asinine idea had been introduced in the first place. Four months ago, the news that the British wizarding population was severely endangered and faced extinction without drastic action had leaked in the Daily Prophet. Six months ago, a cure for Voldemort's parting gift had finally been created, but it wasn't before thousands had died of the mysterious illness. And it was almost a year ago that Harry had stood over Tom Riddle's dead body, shaking in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.

The final battle had been bloody as had the months leading up to it. That alone would have severely impacted the population.

But that isn't where it stopped. Voldemort's last act, before Harry killed him in a bloody final encounter, was to unleash a plague upon the wizarding world. When it was finally countered, the population had been decimated. Hit the hardest were children who had not yet reached majority. Of the five-hundred students that attended Hogwarts the prior year, only twenty were alive to return. Or rather they would have returned if Hogwarts were in any condition to house them.

In addition to the children, the illness took a large number of adults, almost all witches. After all was said and done, between the war and the plague, the population was reduced to a small fraction of its previous size, and wizards now outnumbered witches by more than ten to one.

That was the reason the Ministry enacted the new legislation, waiting just long enough for the world to mourn their losses, though many would never be the same.

The law was necessary. Hermione knew that, but that didn't mean she liked it. It didn't mean she wanted to give up her aspirations to become a bride and a mother before she was twenty.

Harry liked to say that the law was her idea, but only if he wanted her to start ranting about the misogynistic, backwards society they lived in. And if he wasn't careful, she'd start to threaten to find a way for wizards to carry the unborn children and see how much they liked it.

That always shut him right up, though Hermione had spent several long, fruitless nights in the Black library, searching for dark spells to cause male pregnancy.

In a way, Harry was right though. The new law had been inspired by an off-hand comment she made during an informal gathering of the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. She'd said there was a documented trend in the Muggle world that birth rates increased dramatically directly following wartime. Kingsley Shacklebolt had heard that assertion and started thinking. As the newly appointed Minister for Magic, a job he didn't particularly want, he was now saddled with the myriad problems that faced his world.

The most pressing was the fact that even if every witch produced two children, the genetic pool would be so shallow that the population would be on the brink of extinction within fifty years.

Shacklebolt did not want to be known as the Minister who allowed the British wizarding world to crumble into dust.

The brightest minds left, including Hermione, had run the arithmantic calculations, looking for a solution. But just because she'd been part of the solution didn't mean she liked it. It might have been their best hope, but that didn't mean it was a popular idea.

In fact, she had been the most vocal opposition to the law that essentially turned the remaining able-bodied witches into baby factories – a term that never failed to confuse the wizards of the Wizengamot. But no matter how many times the equations were run, the answer was the same.

So now Hermione was waiting to find her fate, to find out her matches. Harry was too, of course, but even he admitted the witches had the raw end of this deal.

The equations had been clear. Every witch would need to be bound to no fewer than five wizards and bear each of those wizards no fewer than two children in order to have any hope for a future. Of course since that was the bare necessity and it was likely that some witches would have difficulty successfully bearing ten children, even with potions to increase fertility and to accelerate gestation, the law would require a witch to take ten husbands instead.

Ten husbands. Twenty children. She could hardly fathom it.

The letter with the names of her ten wizards was probably already on its way.

She fervently hoped none of them was really old. It was a frivolous concern in the grand scheme of things, but it was a concern nonetheless.

All of the living witches of reproductive age, from 15 to 70, had to marry. Wizards over the age of 15 were all eligible, though it was unlikely that any wizard over 125 would be matched, just because of the viability of his little swimmers.

There wasn't enough lust potion on the planet to make Hermione interested in a centenarian. She shuddered at the thought. She'd almost rather end up with one of the Azkaban prisoners than someone as old as Dumbledore.

Involving convicted criminals was another controversial part of the law, but the plan needed a percentage of the new children to be fathered by wizards currently residing in the world's most secure prison, Azkaban. Some of the oldest bloodlines were carried in the Death Eaters who had been captured at the end of the war.

It took a great deal of work to convince the members of the governing body that this was feasible. It took even more work to convince the public. After much debate, both public and private, a couple dozen prisoners who were still healthy enough to reproduce were offered an opportunity for a more lenient sentence.

Actually, it was full parole, but with a few important concessions. The technology already existed to bind a wizard's magic, but it was highly restricted and only worked if the magic was given up voluntarily. The selected prisoners had to agree to have their magic permanently bound, but it would give them a chance to live.

If Dolohov weren't already dead, he probably would have ended up on her list. That was just her luck.

"I wonder how the Weasleys are doing," Harry said, interrupting their silent vigil.

If Hermione wasn't drowning in her own misery, she would have acknowledged that the situation was worse for the Weasleys.

The family was still struggling with losing Fred in the battle, and then Ginny to the sickness only a few weeks later. Percy had fallen ill, as had Fleur. Somehow Percy managed to hang on until the counter-curse was worked out, but Bill's bride and unborn child hadn't. After all of that, now their family was going to be ripped apart. Molly and Arthur had gathered all their remaining children close in the past few weeks to savor their last days together. Once the owls went out, the Weasley marriage would be dissolved.

In a contentious move, the new law called for all current unions to be disbanded. Even the Weasleys, who had been happily married for three decades, and borne seven children, were being forced apart. The excuse was that many bindings included fidelity clauses that could not be overcome unless the marriage was dissolved, but there was also concern that established couples would not be able to adapt to the new arrangements and the new husbands wouldn't be given equal consideration. This aspect of the law, controversial and passionately contested, was eventually passed by the interim Wizengamot, the majority of whom were single or in a few cases not all that opposed to the chance of being partnered with a new, younger witch.

It seemed like the worst sort of crime for a couple to have successfully survived both the war and then a deadly plague, only to be separated from their beloved for "the greater good."

This morning, though, Hermione could only worry about how these things might affect her. How many of her new husbands would be pining for their former spouses? How many were like Harry and had only recently lost the one they loved?

Though it had been ten months since Ginny had gone, she knew Harry still missed her. When it first happened he was already numb from the losses they'd endured during the battle, but now he seemed to be moving forward the best he could. He hadn't talked about his feelings, and she hadn't seen him cry, but every day he seemed a little brighter.

There were still moments when the horror of the recent past caught up with all of them, but at least Harry didn't seem to be dwelling.

Still, it was all happening so fast and yet the minutes seemed to be dragging this morning as they sat in the silent kitchen, both caught up in their thoughts.

A tapping at the little window, high above the sink, meant the wait was over.

She froze, staring out at the pair of nondescript Ministry owls. Perhaps she could refuse to take the owl. If she never opened it, she'd never have to marry the list of strange men inside.

But it was too late to run.

She might have gotten away before she submitted her blood sample. For a moment she'd considered going back to the Muggle world and forsaking her heritage to avoid the fate that was watching her impatiently from the kitchen window. But the Ministry had been adamant that all able bodied citizens were required to participate and failure to do so would make her an enemy of the state. In that case she'd be hunted down and forced to participate. Meaning that she'd spend the next several years incarcerated in a special ward in St. Mungo's and forced to bear her quota of babies anyway. After that, she'd have to spend some time in Azkaban.

But the idea of slipping away to find her parents in Australia was so tempting, especially now that time was up. Of course her parents didn't even know who she was and with the restrictions on international travel imposed to prevent illegal defection, Hermione wouldn't have the opportunity to restore their memories any time soon, maybe not ever. But if she was going to end up with 20 kids, maybe it would better to leave them be. It certainly wasn't the life they envisioned for her.

It wasn't the life she envisioned for herself. She'd planned to work for the Ministry after graduation, perhaps advocating for those beings that were marginalized in the wizarding world. But now there would be no graduation. Hogwarts was closed for the foreseeable future and she'd been absent from her final year to support Harry's quest for the horcruxes. And there would be no career either, not for years at least.

At one time, Hermione had considered marriage and children, but the only person she'd ever seen that way was Ron. Once the heat of battle faded, so had their ardor. The days and weeks after were a time of mourning and then growing terror as more and more people fell ill. Now she didn't even know if she was going to match with Ron and she wasn't certain if she really wanted to.

There was only one way to find out who she was stuck with, though. Harry finally opened the window and the owls dropped off their letters, an envelope for each of them.

Hermione's was much thicker than Harry's, but that made some sense since she had ten times the number of spouses as he did.

For the longest time they didn't move. When Harry went to open his, she reached across the table and stopped him.

Her hand trembled on top of his. "Promise me, Harry, that we'll stay close. No matter who you end up with. Please don't abandon me."

Harry turned his hand over and squeezed hers in a comforting gesture. "Never. Even if I get stuck with some pureblood princess, she won't be able to keep me away. Even if your husbands lock you in a tower, I'll find you. Always."

A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek and she quickly dashed it with her free hand. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm just scared."

"Me too, Mione." He was serious for a moment, but then he grinned. "I mean, I could be stuck with Pansy Parkinson, or…dear Merlin…Dolores Umbridge." The grin had turned into a grimace.

"Don't even joke about that, Harry."

"The worst would be Mrs. Weasley. She's practically my mum."

"I hadn't even considered that." She pulled her hand back and turned over the envelope in front of her. The matching would prevent anyone closer than third cousins from marrying, which meant most of the purebloods would have to be matched to half-bloods and Muggleborns. But there was no way for it to account for the kind of relationship Harry shared with the Weasley matriarch.

"Guess there's one way to find out." Harry turned over his envelope and broke the wax seal.

Encouraged to act, Hermione opened hers as well. While there were some older members of the Order than she considered mentors, unlike Harry, none of them replaced her own father in her mind.

Still, it would be rather awkward…

Hermione unfolded the thick sheaf of papers, scanning over the cover sheet. It was a form letter with instructions and deadlines associated with binding the marriage, requirements for setting up a household, how to apply for Ministry sponsored housing, and where to acquire potions some of which were mandatory, others recommended. But the page didn't give her the names.

Impatiently, she shuffled the pages and discovered a sheet with a biography of her first match.

Arthur Weasley.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

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><p><strong><em>That not-so awkward moment when you snog your best friend.<em>**

**CHAPTER TWO**

Hermione was too shocked to look at her other matches.

This couldn't be right. Mr. Weasley was old enough to be her father and had always been a bit of a surrogate father, no matter that she had only moments ago claimed otherwise. And certainly he saw her as nothing more than a sort of daughter.

She was going to have to… Sweet Nimue's knickers…

It was no wonder the Ministry was recommending certain lust potions.

His bio sheet had Mr. Weasley's most recent apparition license photo and a list of demographics including his address, current location, work history and a little blurb about him. It listed his birth date, February 6, 1950. That made him almost 30 years older than her.

He smiled mildly up from the photo. Despite his age, he was an attractive man. She could see where Bill got his dashing good looks, though time and stress had weathered Arthur a bit. But still, before this she'd never once looked at him as anything more than Ron's dad.

And then there was the fact that she would be the one breaking up the Weasley's marriage. Forgetting for a moment that this was the Ministry's doing, and that Mrs. Weasley would also be remarrying, Hermione felt suffocated by guilt that she was taking the Weasley patriarch away.

Tears threatened, but she sniffed them back. Losing her head wouldn't make this any better. She was a logical, rational witch. She could handle this.

After her brief mental pep talk, she flipped to the next profile. "No way." She pushed away from the table, toppling her chair.

"What is it?" Harry asked, looking up from his own letter.

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Please tell me you're joking."

Hermione was shaking now and breathing too fast, all thoughts of logic gone. "Why the hell didn't I leave when I had the chance? I can't marry that man. What the hell am I going to do?"

She paced back and forth, fingers pulling at her hair as she considered options for avoiding her fate. The more ideas she discarded, the more desperate her ideas got. Fleeing was out; the Ministry could too easily track her movements. Murder was a possibility. Mental breakdown seemed likely. Finally she wondered, "Do you think it would hurt very much if I poison myself? Maybe I could overdose on Draught of Living Death. That seems like a peaceful way to go."

"Hey." Harry got up and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. With his other hand, he smoothed her hair back. "Don't even talk like that. You can't leave me. What would I do without you?"

"Sorry, Harry. I don't mean it, but the idea of letting that man touch me is…" Her shudder conveyed her disgust better than words possibly could.

"It'll be okay. He can't hurt you. I won't let him." He kissed her temple. His lips brushed against her skin as he continued, "Besides, you know how close he came to going back to prison. He's still on probation. If he even pulls his wand on you, except in self-defense, his probation's revoked and it's Azkaban or magical binding for him."

Hermione sniffed and nodded, letting Harry guide her back to her chair, settling himself into the one next to her. "So who else have you got?" he asked.

"Mr. Weasley," she said miserably.

She heard Harry swallow before he responded, "That's…er…interesting."

"I feel so bad. I don't want to steal him away from his family."

"You aren't stealing anyone. This wasn't your choice."

"Ron's going to have kittens."

"No—" Hermione cut off his denial with a look. Reluctantly, he conceded, "Okay, you're probably right. But he'll get over it. You don't have a choice and neither does he."

Hermione sniffed again and nodded as Harry tucked a curl back behind her ear. Finally he asked, "Any other exciting matches?"

"That's as far as I got. I can't look anymore."

"Well it can hardly get worse."

"Don't say that," she said, hitting him on the shoulder. "It can always get worse. Aberforth could be in there."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the idea. They'd spent several hours discussing her fear of being stuck with someone ancient. "Okay, you're right. It could get worse. But isn't the worst thing just sitting here, imagining the worst? Why don't you look at the rest and see what's what."

"I can't. Will you do it for me, Harry?" It was unlike her to be so needy, but she thought it might be understandable under the circumstances.

He scooped up the papers she'd dropped and flipped through them. His frown deepened as he went. By the time he'd gone through them all, Hermione's leg was bouncing up and down so hard with nerves that it looked ready to fly off.

It seemed like forever before he looked up, a half grimace on his face. "So do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

Hermione was going to throw up. "Bad…. No, good. _Argh_.Just tell me."

He adjusted his glasses. "Well, none of them have wrinkly, old man balls. Arthur's the eldest at 49."

She sighed in relief. That was her number one fear, being matched to some perverted old letch with death breath and saggy skin.

"None of them are much younger either. In fact everyone was in our year or above at Hogwarts."

That was another relief. Only slightly more lecherous than old men were barely pubescent boys. She couldn't imagine having to take one of the two remaining 15 year-olds as a husband, and now she knew she wouldn't have to.

"Well that's good. So enough stalling, who are they?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Are they that bad?"

"N-no. Not all. Um, you like Neville right? He's a good bloke."

Hermione relaxed a little more and then she smiled, ever so slightly. "Sure, Neville's great…"

"And, um, Kingsley's the Minister for Magic, so that'll make you, like, Mrs. Minister or whatever."

"Kingsley? Shacklebolt? I don't want to marry him. I want to tie him down and hex his dangly bits off."

"Kinky."

"Harry!" He smirked as Hermione smacked him on the arm again. But she did crack a smile. "Who else?"

"Cormac McLaggen." He winced as he said it, as if he was afraid she'd hit him again.

"That wanker? Bloody arrogant tosspot…"

Hermione was still grumbling about Cormac when Harry said, "Gregory Goyle."

"No."

"'Fraid so."

"But I don't want to have stupid children." This came out as a whine.

Harry put a comforting hand on her knee. "Your children couldn't possibly end up stupid. Even with only half of your brain, they'll be bloody brilliant."

Hermione sniffed and gave him a watery smile.

He sighed before he gave her the next name. "Draco Malfoy."

"The gods are punishing me." She dropped her head to the kitchen table and banged it a few times. "This is payback for being a horrible daughter and for that time when I was six and I took a piece of candy from the grocer after my mum said she wouldn't buy it for me. Or maybe someone at the Ministry fixed my results because I've been such a pain."

Harry set his hand on the back of her head. "You are a very brave and selfless daughter. And as much as I love a good conspiracy theory, I doubt anyone would put the Minister on your list along with all of these Death Eaters. As for the candy…" She turned her head to the side to look at him. "I'm shocked. Shocked, I tell you. You always seemed like such a good girl." His smile told her he was teasing her and she couldn't help but smile back. Thirteen years later and she still felt guilty about that dumb piece of candy.

"Besides, Draco might not be so bad," Harry continued after a moment. "He was almost polite when we ran into him after his trial. We shook hands and the world didn't come to a screeching halt."

"You'd just helped him stay out of Azakaban, Harry. Even a git like Malfoy can manage to be gracious on special occasions. But, somehow I doubt he's going to be thrilled about marrying someone like me."

"He's lucky to be marrying someone like you." He leaned toward her with a sober mien. "After all, he could be marrying Dolores Umbridge."

She rolled her eyes at his goofiness and then motioned impatiently to the stack of papers in his hands.

Harry sobered, took a deep breath and said, "Rodolphus Lestrange."

"They're letting him out? But you just managed to put him away!"

"I know." His face was grim. Harry, Ron and Neville had been working with a team of Aurors for the past six months, tracking down the last of the Death Eaters and putting them in Azkaban. Lestrange had been one of the most elusive and he hadn't come without a fight. A fight his brother, Rabastan, hadn't survived.

"He's a Squib, then?"

Harry nodded.

"But he's still a murderer."

He nodded again and Hermione sighed. "Please tell me that's the worst of it."

Harry shrugged and scrunched up his nose. It wasn't particularly comforting.

"Who?"

"Snape?"

"Oh." She considered that for a moment. "No, that's not so bad."

"Are you forgetting what a right prat he can be?"

"No. Of course not. But at least he was a good guy. God, I bet he's just thrilled about this." She laughed as she imagined Severus Snape finding out he was betrothed to the know-it-all Gryffindor.

"Kingsley better watch his back," Harry answered with a smirk.

Hermione agreed with a smile and then counted back over the matches. "There's one left. Who is it?"

Harry reached across the table to his own letter and handed it to her. When she glanced at it she was looking at a picture of herself.

"It's me."

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><p>Harry watched her absorb the news silently for a few moments while he grew worried that she was disappointed by the match. But she was beaming when she looked up from the parchment in her hands. "You mean we get to stay together?"<p>

"Always."

With a whoop, Hermione threw herself at Harry, landing with little grace in his lap, wrapping her arms around him. Harry laughed and hugged her back, enjoying the feel of the warm witch.

It was nice to just hold someone again. But honestly, she wasn't just anyone. He was happy to be holding Hermione.

He wasn't certain when it happened. Maybe it was during those long nights when it was just the two of them camping out as they evaded Death Eaters and Snatchers. There had been a moment when he looked across the table and realized she wasn't a little girl anymore. Somehow she'd grown up. Gone was the scrawny twelve-year-old with frizzy hair and an overbite. Now she had soft curves in all the right spots and she was really quite pretty.

Of course he hadn't done anything at the time. He'd simply acknowledged that his friend had become a beautiful woman when he wasn't paying attention and moved on. Even when Ron was being a complete prat, Harry was too loyal to consider making a move on Hermione.

And then there was Ginny. He loved Ginny then and he still loved her now, but if there was one thing he refused to do, it was to become another Severus Snape. He'd loved Ginny and if she'd lived, they might have had a future together, but she was gone and he would remember her, but he would move on.

Since the final battle, whatever spark that existed between Ron and Hermione failed to ignite despite opportunity. In the past few months, Harry had been having a hard time keeping his thoughts of her platonic. More and more, she was creeping into his dreams in ways that were more than friendly.

He could kiss Kingsley. Really. This stupid idiotic excuse for a law had delivered him exactly what he wanted.

Hermione sat back, still on his lap, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry I flew at you like that. I'm just happy."

"Don't worry, Mione. I don't mind. I'm happy, too."

"Really?" She caught her bottom lip in her teeth. "You weren't hoping for someone else?"

"Well, I did have my heart set on Dolores Umbridge, but you're a close second."

"Harry!" She smacked his arm again in the same spot. He was getting a bruise. "I'm serious."

"Funny, you don't look like Sirius."

She smacked him again.

"Ow. Stop beating me up, Mione. I'll have to report you to the Ministry for spousal abuse." He pulled a pathetic face, making her laugh. Then he tightened his arms around her and lowered his forehead to rest against hers. "Seriously, I'm really glad it's you. Someone I already love."

She smiled, her eyes glassy. "Love you, too," she said lightly, the same way she'd been saying it for years, only now he wanted her to mean more. But there would be time for that.

Her expression became solemn again. "It doesn't bother you that we'll have to…you know?"

"I expect we're going to enjoy 'you know' quite a lot." He brushed a soft kiss over her lips, with just the barest hint of pressure.

Hermione melted against his chest when he pulled away, humming as her lips curled up in a smile. "I expect you're right."

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><p>AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing, I appreciate it!

Next up: A run-in with a redhead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

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><p><em>That awkward moment when you get sex advice from the ex-wife.<em>

**CHAPTER THREE**

They sat curled together for a few minutes before Hermione's dread returned. One perfect match. The rest ranged from acceptable to terrifying and she only had a few days to get them all coordinated for a binding ceremony.

"Where do we start?" Hermione asked.

"Well, the law appoints the eldest spouse as the head of the house, which means Mr. Weasley. We should start there."

"You mean to go to the Burrow?"

"We can't avoid them forever."

An hour later, after some dithering and procrastination, the pair apparated to the end of the dusty lane that led to the crooked house, a house that had always been a welcoming place, made that way largely by Molly Weasley's warm, maternal manner. The house wouldn't be the same without her cooking in the kitchen or barking orders to children and guests alike.

It was with heavy hearts that they walked, close enough that their arms brushed against each other. Hermione wanted to reach out and grab Harry's hand, if only because she needed the reassurance, but she didn't. She wasn't certain what was going on between them. It was as if a line that kept them in the platonic-friends zone had suddenly been erased. Like magic. She was giddy and nervous and unsettled in a way she'd never been with him before. She felt fluttery.

Hermione shot him a shy smile as they walked up the porch steps, and he gave her a lopsided grin, shoved his messy hair back and knocked on the door.

It was answered a few moments later by an uncharacteristically subdued Molly Weasley who simply held her arms out and let them step into one of her amazing hugs. She smelled like cinnamon and laundry soap and sunshine.

After a few moments, Harry pulled away, but Hermione clung to the older woman, sobbing into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry. I would never want to take him from you. I wish I didn't have to. I'm so, so sorry."

Mrs. Weasley just held her, calming Hermione with soft shushing sounds like she probably had for all of her children over the years. When the wave of weeping subsided, the redhead pulled back, her own eyes damp, and gave Hermione an encouraging smile. "Enough with the apologies for things you can't control."

"I was so worried you were going to hate me." A few more tears escaped and Hermione had to take a few deep breaths to get them in check.

"I love you like one of my own, Hermione. And this isn't going to change that. Besides, I trust you to take good care of Arthur now that I won't be able to." The older woman nodded and sniffed, brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes before they could fall.

"I'll do my best."

"Good. Now I imagine you've come to speak with Arthur. He's in the kitchen with the boys. So let's dry our tears. If we women don't stay strong through this, the world will fall to pieces."

Hermione took a moment to clean up her face, feeling a bit better. If anyone had a reason hate her, it was Mrs. Weasley. The fact she wasn't even angry eased some of the heaviness in her heart.

Once they were composed, the women walked arm-in-arm into the kitchen.

They were greeted by a table of redheaded men with long faces.

"Where did Harry and Ron get off to?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she fell into her typical role in the kitchen, bustling about to fix Hermione a cup of tea.

"The boys stepped outside to discuss some things. Good morning, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said, rising from the table to pull out a chair for her.

She thanked him quietly as she settled, feeling the weight of stares from eyes she couldn't quite meet.

The silence was unnatural, especially in the normally raucous Weasley household.

Relief finally came from George, of course. "You're not going to make us call you Mum, are you?"

This comment was greeted with laughter that managed to break the tense atmosphere of the room. George had recovered some of his irreverent humor despite losing his other half in the final battle. Since then, he also fell into dark funks on occasion where he wouldn't speak with anyone.

Hermione blushed as she chuckled, but she managed to retort with a mock glare, "That'll be Stepmum to the likes of you."

It felt good to laugh with these people who had been a second family to her. Once the ice was broken, conversation flowed, Weasley-style, meaning that there were a minimum of three topics under discussion simultaneously, voices vying for attention by increasing volume and repetition. It took some getting used to for an outsider, but for Hermione it was a comfort.

Mr. Weasley used the cover of the boisterous chatter to quietly say, "I understand from Harry that I'm to be your head of household."

She nodded. "I'm afraid it won't be an easy task." He raised a questioning brow. She continued, "Well for starters there are five Slytherins, four are marked Death Eaters, one was a junior Death Eater-in-waiting."

His brow furrowed. "How did they manage that? I thought there were supposed to be safeguards in the process to ensure witches were matched to no more than one Azkaban inmate."

"Only one of them was a prisoner. Lestrange." Hermione sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "The others are both Malfoys and Professor Snape."

That name seemed to penetrate the layers of conversation around them.

"You got stuck with the greasy git?" George asked, wincing as Mrs. Weasley rapped his knuckles with her teaspoon.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, annoyed at the insult to her intended. "I've been matched to Professor Snape and I'm quite honored by it. He's a brave, intelligent man." She turned back to Mr. Weasley, saying quietly, "Though I doubt he'll be thrilled at the prospect. I imagine that may make your role more difficult."

He reached out as if to pat her hand, but retracted it at the last moment. "I'm certain we'll manage. So what other challenges do your husbands present?"

"Well there's Neville Longbottom, who's a nice guy and Cormac McLaggen, who's an arrogant prat. But I've also got Kingsley and Harry."

Mr. Weasley nodded, considering. "So this union will be high profile."

"I imagine we'll have to set an example," Hermione added glumly. "And even then I'm certain the papers will find something scandalous to print. They always have before where I'm involved. Even if they have to make it up."

This time Mr. Weasley did pat her hand, unable to deny the truth of her statement, but offering some encouragement. "We'll all work to protect you, and whether good or evil, you do have some rather powerful husbands."

It was at that moment that the backdoor opened. Ron took two steps into the kitchen, his lip cracked and bleeding, his knuckles scraped. He paused when he spotted Hermione sitting at the table with his father's hand covering hers.

The way his eyes bugged out would have been comical if it hadn't been followed by an angry diatribe.

"How dare you!" he screamed. "How dare you come in here and flaunt your relationship in front of us. In front of my mother. She's been crying for days and you just swoop in here like you belong. You're nothing more than homewrecking, mudblood whore."

There was a collective intake of breath and the scraping of chairs as all of the Weasleys got to their feet, leaving Hermione to hunch forward at the table and bury her face in her folded arms. Seven voices argued, all but one defending Hermione and castigating Ron for his words.

Sometime during the melee, Harry must have snuck back into the room. Instead of entering the fray, he came to Hermione. It was a small thing, his hand on her back, rubbing in gentle circles, but it was a true balm. Around them, the noise escalated until Mrs. Weasley banged her wooden spoon on a hanging pot.

"Enough!" she shouted. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you will shut your mouth right now." She sounded like her howler come to life. "I have never been more embarrassed to call myself your mother. We did not raise you to think that way, or to speak like that. Hermione is your friend and she's as much a victim of this as anyone."

"She was on the team that came up with this bloody plan!"

Another argument broke out between the brothers, but it was quickly put down, this time by their patriarch.

"Silence!" Arthur Weasley immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room. This was not the mild mannered wizard Hermione had come to know. The wizard, who had only lost his cool once in Hermione's presence during a confrontation with the elder Malfoy, was fuming. His wand was in his hand, magenta sparks shooting from the tip.

"I will tell all of you this only once. If you wish to blame anyone for this situation, then blame Voldemort and his supporters. Blame the old leadership that allowed him to rise to power, not once, but twice. Blame the people who judge based on blood status and not merit." At this he glared at Ron. "But for all the blame you assign for creating this situation, you have to blame the Wizengamot for approving this law. I am one of those people on the Wizengamot and I am one who approved this, even these conditions that are difficult for our family to face.

"All of us are being called to make sacrifices for our society. I know we've already sacrificed too much and this is not fair. Your mother and I lost two of our children, you each lost two siblings, and Bill lost his lovely wife and a child he never even got to hold. Some of you, Charlie, will have to abandon the work you love, or perhaps you will not be able to pursue a career at all for a time." He glanced at her then. "And now you're being asked to forsake a future with the mate of your choice, at least for several years.

"But the facts are that with the number of witches remaining, the oldest wizarding community in the world would be decimated in three generations. There would be too few children and their lines would be too closely related. Children would be born Squibs or with other defects.

"This is the solution that we adopted. It wasn't the only solution. Hermione herself attended the hearings and tried to forward other suggestions, but this was the one that the majority approved." Many of the council members wouldn't even entertain her idea to introduce a few Muggle bloodlines into the society. Nor were they interested in offering incentives to financially struggling magical communities outside of Great Britain in exchange for encouraging some of their subjects to immigrate. The objection was that we would lose the identity of their community, lose their traditions, and in that case they might as well all pack up and move somewhere else.

"We are all making sacrifices, Ronald. It's time to grow up and accept them like the man your mother and I raised you to be. And you will never again speak that way about Hermione if you wish me to continue to acknowledge you as my son."

Ron went pale with shock except for two red flags of embarrassment high on his cheeks. "I apologize, Dad. I wasn't thinking straight." The words were choked and automatic, but not especially heartfelt.

"I'm not the one who's owed an apology."

Attention shifted back to her, but she kept her eyes on the table.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." This apology sounded even more forced than his first. Hermione wasn't the only one that noticed it.

"You shouldn't have said it. You shouldn't have even thought it." It was Harry who spoke in her defense, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"Stay out of it, Harry. You two probably have been shagging each other for years behind my back. Behind Ginny's back. Doesn't it even bother you that Ginny's gone? Hermione was supposed to be mine, Harry. Mine. But you always get everything."

She'd had enough. Rising with her wand drawn, she said, "Harry and I have never been more than friends until now. I will admit I once thought you and I could be something more, but after your display today, I'm quite certain that it would never have worked out. I will accept your apology in the spirit in which it was issued – with reluctance."

Hermione looked from Mr. Weasley to Mrs. Weasley. "Perhaps it would be best if I leave—"

"No," Mr. Weasley said with finality. "Ron, I believe you have a meeting with your intended soon. It would be best if you clean yourself up before you go. Your brothers can help you."

It was an obvious dismissal and none of the boys disputed it. Once the room emptied of the younger Weasleys, Hermione slumped back in her chair.

"I apologize for Ronald's behavior," Mr. Weasley said as he resumed his seat. "I would say that he's under a lot of emotional stress, but it's no excuse. We're all under stress and managing the best we can."

"I'm quite familiar with his temper." She smiled wryly, but it was tinged with sadness. "I expected his anger, but that doesn't make it less painful. Still, you needn't apologize for him, Mr. Weasley."

"I think under the circumstances you should call me Arthur."

"All right…Arthur," she said, blushing lightly.

"I take it you boys fought," Arthur said to Harry, who took a seat on the other side of Hermione. She could see where his cheek was red and beginning to swell. And his glasses were broken. Again.

"Sorry, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, he didn't react well to the news that I was one of Hermione's husbands. I'd hoped he'd gotten it all out of his system though."

As the older couple dismissed his apology, Hermione took a moment to fix up Harry. She knew enough first aid to reduce the swelling and prevent further bruising, but he'd still have a red mark for a while. A quick _Occulus Reparo_ fixed his glasses right up and she was reminded of the first day she met Harry Potter.

She couldn't help but smile at the memory.

He grinned at her knowingly. "Thanks, Mione."

* * *

><p>Arthur and Harry moved into the sitting room to discuss how they should proceed to gather everyone for the binding and what to do next. Hermione decided she'd had enough binding talk for the moment and decided to stay in the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with lunch preparations.<p>

When the meat-filled pasties were in the oven, the women sat down at the table.

After insisting that Hermione also call her by her given name, Molly said, "I want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to if you need it. Soon you'll be a wife and a mother and I do have some experience in those areas. And wizards can be so clueless sometimes it's nice to be able to talk to another witch."

"I appreciate that, Molly. I'm certain I'll need your help and advice. Perhaps we can try to meet for tea and a weekly chat. At least until we're too pregnant to get about."

"I would like that very much." Molly smiled at her, sipped her tea and then took a deep breath as if preparing for something unpleasant. "Now I know this is a rather delicate topic, and a bit more awkward for the strange situation we're in, but do you have any questions about sex?"

Hermione choked on her tea. After her coughing fit subsided, she stammered, "Well…er…I…um…I think I understand the basics, but I've never actually…. That is to say I've not…. I'm still a…."

"A virgin?"

Hermione sighed in relief at not having to say the word. She nodded. "I've only ever been kissed three times and one of them was Harry only just this morning." She touched her lips, remembering. "It was sweet."

"You've only been kissed three times? Even after spending all that time unchaperoned with two teenage boys?"

She huffed, a little irritated because it had been a common misconception during school that there was more than just friendship amongst the trio. Some of the rumors even paired Harry and Ron as a couple, making her the third wheel. "We were running for our lives and trying to save the world. I had other things on my mind."

"I don't mean to offend you, dear, but not many girls would have resisted the temptation, especially under such dire circumstances. I doubt I would have at your age. You know Bill was born only seven months after Arthur and I married and he was almost a month past his due date."

It always surprised her when she found respectable adults had once been young and rash. Hermione just shook her head and shrugged. "For me, it wasn't the right time. I thought maybe Ron and I would…after the battle…but it just didn't work out. And now I'm going to have ten lovers and I don't have any idea what I'm doing."

"You poor dear, to think how much more trying this whole situation is for you. Your first experience is daunting enough even if you wait for the right time with the right man."

"I'll admit I'm completely terrified. While I understand the mechanics of what goes on between a man and a woman, I have no practical experience. And some of these men are downright scary. Besides that, I don't know how to be a wife. I don't know how to be a mum."

"Hermione, you are a brilliant, caring girl. You'll figure it out, and I'll always be willing to help if you need it. But if one of those men does something you don't like, you don't hesitate to go to Arthur, or Harry if you're more comfortable."

They shared another hug and then Hermione decided it was time to change the subject. "So what are your matches like, Molly?"

She snorted and poured them each a little more tea.

"I don't know what potions they're on over at the Ministry, to think that I should be matched to a boy your age."

"Oh goodness. Who?"

"Seamus Finnegan. The poor dear will probably need me to use Polyjuice to get the deed done." Molly laughed and Hermione couldn't help but join in. "I won't know whether to kiss the boy or change his nappy and send him to his room."

The thought of Seamus in a diaper was enough to push the pair over the edge.

After the two had a good, much needed laugh, Molly shared that the rest of her matches weren't so very bad. She'd been in school with several of them, only one had any known ties to Death Eaters and she'd managed to not to get saddled with one of the Azkaban prisoners. None of them were in their dotage either. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one glad to avoid saggy, old man balls.

"So is there anything I need to know about Arthur? I mean, I don't even know how he takes his tea."

"Two sugars and just a dollop of cream. Let's see. What else. He snores like a Hungarian Horntail, so unless you use a silencing spell on him, you won't sleep a wink if he's in the room. His neck is quite sensitive. Kissing him there is a sure way to get him going."

Molly smiled faintly, staring into her tea, but seeing a memory, while Hermione blushed like mad.

"You already know he adores all things Muggle. You'll be better suited to that hobby than I ever was." The redhead's smile was a little sad now, and her eyes were misty.

Hermione reached out and squeezed Molly's hand. "I'll never be able to fill your shoes."

The older woman squeezed back. "Just do your best to love him, even if it's only ever the fondness you have for him now. That's all I can hope for."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for the time to review! I appreciate your feedback.

Next up: A politician is persuasive...


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

* * *

><p><em>No, you're not allowed to hex the help.<em>

**CHAPTER FOUR**

After lunch, Arthur saw Hermione and Harry off. It was agreed their next stop would be the Ministry to speak with Kingsley and to claim Rodolphus. In the meanwhile, Arthur would owl Lucius Malfoy to arrange a meeting at his manor for their entire household on the following day.

At the door, Arthur stopped Hermione. "It is traditional that we share a kiss to seal our betrothal. May I?" Harry stepped quietly onto the porch, giving them some privacy.

"Of course, Arthur." She turned to him, tilting her face up, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Ever so gently, he cupped her cheeks with both hands and brushed a kiss across her forehead. Then he tipped her head back a bit more and pressed a sweet, soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

It was brief, but somehow managed to warm Hermione all the way to her toes. He backed away, looking a bit shy. "Owl me if you have any troubles, dear. Otherwise I'll owl you with the arrangements for tomorrow."

Hermione smiled, nodded and slipped out the door, surprised and a bit guilty over her reaction to the kiss. Harry was waiting for her on the porch and he took her hand in his as they made their way back down the dusty lane to the apparition point.

* * *

><p>The population decline was most obvious in the Ministry of Magic. Where there used to be scores of witches and wizards bustling through the atrium during business hours, nowadays there were just a handful making their way to the lifts usually only during lunch or at the end of the day. Departments had been consolidated to the point that one wizard might be doing the job of fifty from the previous Ministry. There were only ten witches left on staff and most of them would have to be replaced before too long.<p>

Today the Ministry was even more deserted as Kingsley had given most Ministry employees the day off to deal with their new marital obligations. A rotation of a very limited staff was on duty to cover the essential services. Aside from some security personnel and Aurors, one person was on hand to handle matching questions and complaints, one was scheduling Ministry-performed binding ceremonies, and one was handling the distribution of Azkaban prisoners.

When they approached the Security Wizard, he didn't bother to look up from his book. The place was deserted. "Name?"

"Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

That got his attention. Harry was even more popular than before, and though he'd been working with the Ministry for a few months now, he hadn't spent much time in the building. That would change soon, as he was supposed to start proper Auror training in a few weeks.

Hermione's name had also been well publicized since the final battle.

"Good day, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. What business do you have here today?"

"We need to speak with the Minister and then we need to stop in to claim a Death Eater," she said, her voice echoing in the grand, empty hall.

"Do you have your claim ticket?"

Harry pulled Hermione's thick Ministry envelope from the inside pocket of his robe and fished through the stack for a page they would have to exchange for Lestrange.

The Security Wizard, identified on his badge as R. Ponter waved his wand over the sheet, nodding his head. "Everything looks in order for picking up the prisoner, Mr. Potter. It's a shame since you lot just managed to put him away; in a million years I'll never understand these politicians. As for the other, I'm afraid the Minister isn't in today. I can make an appointment for you to see him when the Ministry reopens on Monday."

"I'm afraid it's rather more urgent than that. You see Miss Granger is to become his wife and the paperwork lists his current location as 'Office of the Minister, Ministry of Magic.'"

The Security Wizard immediately backpedaled. "Of course, Miss. I didn't know. You see since the offices are closed, his whereabouts are not supposed to be made known. Security reasons."

Hermione spoke up to reassure the man, "That makes sense, but you understand my need to see him today."

"Of course, of course. Go right on up. Elevator One will allow you to access his offices." He handed them each passes allowing them access throughout the Ministry.

Before they left, Harry paused. "I trust you'll be discreet about our visit today. I'd hate to read about this in the Prophet before Minister Shacklebolt has released an official statement." He said this cordially, but with a clear underlying threat.

"Of course, of course."

"Great. Thanks, Mr. Ponter," Harry said with a nod and a smile before following Hermione to the elevators

After a brief trip, the pair stepped off on Level One. Unsurprisingly there was no one at the reception desk, but the door to the inner office opened before they even had a chance to knock.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic, greeted them with a broad smile.

"Hermione. Harry. It's good to see you both," he said in his deep, booming voice while shaking Harry's hand. Then he took her hand in his and brought it up to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. The irritation she felt towards him ebbed, just as it always seemed to do when she was actually in his presence. There was something magnetic about him, or perhaps it was something magical.

He admitted them into his office, which had impressive dark wood and leather furnishings, motioning for them to take a seat. Instead of taking his own chair, he leaned back against the edge of the desk, facing them. "An eventful day. I hope you're bearing the strain without too much difficulty."

She sighed as she sat. "It has been a bit stressful. We stopped at the Weasleys' earlier."

"Yes, I noticed that on your biography."

"Hmm." It was a bit unnerving to think her matches each had a way of monitoring her location and seeing just exactly who she was visiting. "That's a clever bit of magic. Quite handy for keeping track of everyone."

"It is useful, but don't fret, the charm will wear off within a few weeks."

She relaxed a bit at that. "Ah. I worried perhaps Big Brother would always be watching."

At Kingsley's questioning look, Hermione explained, "Muggle novel, _1984_, by George Orwell. In the book, the oppressive government is always monitoring its citizens to keep them under control. It's a cautionary tale against taking the path toward a totalitarian state. I'll loan it to you."

Kingsley crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. "It sounds interesting and perhaps like you're drawing a parallel?"

"Perhaps. I do see the potential, but we won't take that path if we don't limit personal freedoms unnecessarily."

"'Unnecessarily' seems to be the key word there," he said lightly.

"Yes, a subjective word it can be, too."

He smiled, flashing his straight, white teeth. Her parents would love him if they ever got the chance to meet him. "Well I look forward to reading the book and discussing it with you. And of course, I hope you'll help me keep our Ministry on the right path."

She laughed. "I'm certain you'll tire of hearing my opinions at the dinner table, Kingsley."

"I highly doubt that. So is there a plan yet?"

Harry spoke up at this point since Hermione had left the planning to him and Arthur. "Arthur's owling Malfoy to arrange a meeting tomorrow, hopefully at his manor. Then he'll contact everyone with the details. We did want to see if you have any obligations."

"I'll let Arthur know my schedule's free. There's always work to be done, but I don't have any meetings for a change."

"Great. Our next stop is downstairs to pick up Lestrange." Harry's annoyance at this was not hard to read. Of course it was understandable. Two Aurors had suffered from nasty hexes and Rabastan had died from his injuries when they finally caught up to the Lestrange brothers. And a few weeks later he was walking free.

The Minister looked grim. "Yes. I took the liberty of looking up the rest of your matches, Hermione, once I got my owl this morning. You're compatible with a varied collection of men."

She rolled her eyes. "That's putting it mildly."

Harry asked, "Have you seen Lestrange? Did the procedure work?"

"I oversaw the process and saw that each of them was rendered magically inert. They have an ankle cuff which acts as a portkey if they go missing. They've also been fit with behavior modification charms that will prevent them from committing a crime or causing a person harm." He glanced at Hermione. "In this case, I hope you'll agree that the government restriction of freedom is necessary."

"Quite, Kingsley. I'm not advocating anarchy. I do think the government is crossing lines when it starts to legislate the sex-lives of its citizens, but again, in this case it probably is a necessity."

"I genuinely wish the situation was different."

"I know you do. I'm sorry. It's not your fault, or at least it's not _all_ your fault." He laughed at that, as she'd intended.

"Well I'm certain you need to be on your way." They all stood, but before she could make it to the door, Kingsley stopped her with a hand on her arm. "You wouldn't mind giving me a moment alone with our intended, would you, Harry?"

"No, of course. I'll be right outside, Mione."

Kingsley was a big man, tall and broad with muscle, not fat. But never had he seemed larger than now as he stepped closer to her, eliminating all the polite distance between them.

"I am very pleased to be marrying you, Hermione."

"And I, you," she murmured, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"Are you? I know you've disagreed with some of my decisions recently. And it's no secret that you fought this initiative."

"That is true. I think this is an extreme step." She sighed. "But I also know our options are limited and this is the safest course, if not the easiest."

"I agree with you, but unfortunately I must look past my own feelings and try to do what is the greatest good."

"I understand. It's difficult to be idealistic and effective at the same time."

"Yes, but I do appreciate having you remind me what we should be striving toward. I hope you continue to do so, perhaps in the capacity as one of my advisors."

Excitement bubbled up at the idea. "Truly?"

He laughed, deep and rich. "Of course. You're one of our brightest minds and you have a fresh perspective. I know you're concerned about wasting your talents and abilities by becoming a…what was it?"

"A baby factory."

"That's right. I think it would be a great crime to allow that to happen. You may find you have many demands on your time, but I will always encourage your input, Hermione."

She smiled. "I think I'd like that."

"Good. Now, for the less pleasant aspects of political life. There will be times that you may be required to appear in public as my wife. Not that you were anonymous before, but soon you'll be even less so."

Oh, the joys of life lived under a microscope. Not that she didn't already have that problem as one third of the Golden Trio. "I will do my best to be the dutiful Minister's wife."

"I'm certain you'll excel in this as you do in everything else." He tucked one wayward curl behind her ear, his fingertip brushing along the curve of her jaw. Her breath caught. "Unfortunately I will be busy much of the time, but you'll have others to keep you occupied."

"No doubt I'll have more attention than one witch could possibly stand," she said wryly. Both chuckled. They were standing so close she could feel the sound rumbling in his chest.

The maddening finger continued to trace light patterns over her neck, until it seemed every nerve in her body was drawn tight in anticipation. "Very well," he said, his voice soft and deep. "Harry's waiting for you and I've got to write my own press releases nowadays."

"Let me know if I can help you."

"I will. Before you go, may I give you a kiss to seal our betrothal?"

She nodded and lifted onto to her tiptoes. He stooped a little to meet her halfway. His lips were soft, but firm and his body was warm and hard where it pressed against her. Unlike the kisses she'd gotten earlier from Harry and Arthur, Kingsley didn't stop with a mere peck. With gentle pressure, he encouraged her lips to part so he could deepen the contact. His hands, resting on her hips, flexed and pulled her closer and she grasped his biceps to steady herself when she felt her knees go weak.

Too soon, he pulled away, a devilish light in his eyes. "Yes, I think this will be a good match indeed. Owl me if you need anything, little one." He took her hand in his, pressed another kiss into her wrist and escorted her to the door.

"I will see you tomorrow."

The kiss still had her in a bit of a daze when she walked out of his office.

* * *

><p>Harry had to laugh at Hermione's slightly vacant expression as they made their way to Level Two where the prisoners were being distributed. He wondered if he shouldn't be a bit jealous, but it in the end it wasn't worth it. For one, Ron's jealousy never got him anywhere with Hermione and for another he was going to have to share her in any case. He'd just have to get used to it.<p>

As they were stepping off the lift they ran into another witch who was escorting the big, blond Death Eater, Rowle. Another one he had worked hard to help find and bring in a few months ago.

Harry glared at the man as he passed and the Death Eater glared back, but then fell to his knees, clutching his head.

It wasn't especially charitable, but he couldn't help smirking at the suffering man. Maybe this release program wasn't so bad after all. Instead of sitting in prison, wasting resources, the Death Eaters could pay back their debt to society and experience a little torture whenever they were bad.

The witch, an older woman Harry had never met, prodded the blond with her wand and barked at him to get moving. At least it didn't look like Rowle was going to have an easy time of it. She'd probably have the man working like a house-elf.

Hermione looked a little disgusted at the whole situation and Harry had a feeling she'd soon be sporting pins to ensure the humane treatment of Death Eater prisoners.

As the big man struggled to get up and onto the elevator, they walked over to the claims desk and Harry handed their ticket over to the attendant.

In a bored monotone he read from the sheet. "Rodolphus Alexander Lestrange. 41 years old. Born on June 2, 1957. Height is six foot even. Weight is 10 stone, 12 pounds. And you are Miss Granger?"

"Yes."

"I'll need to see your apparition license and wand for verification."

She huffed and dug into her purse for her wallet. The wizard would have to be living under a rock to not recognize her name and face, but the Ministry loved its protocols. Once she'd dug out the license, she handed it over to him along with her wand.

He looked at the license and looked at her several times before handing it back. With a flick of his own wand, he verified that her wand's specifications matched those listed on her license and then he returned that as well.

"You have to sign some forms and then I'll bring out your prisoner. This first one makes the man your ward and your responsibility."

"Fabulous," she said dryly, making Harry choke on a laugh. The other wizard ignored her, taking the form back after she'd signed.

"The next is a list of regulations regarding his behavior and conduct and yours as his ward." It was a five foot parchment with tiny print.

He launched into a rehearsed speech that he'd obviously delivered a half-dozen times today already. "In summary it says you are not permitted to torture, beat, mistreat, or kill your prisoner except in self-defense. You may assign him reasonable tasks in exchange for his upkeep. You must provide him adequate food, water, shelter, clothing, and other necessities. Failure to do so will result in a fine. The Ministry is providing you a small monthly stipend to defray the financial burden.

"He will have to report to the Ministry annually to renew the behavior modification charms. A notice will be sent out and his parole will be revoked if he fails to comply in a timely manner. He's required to report immediately in the unlikely event that the modifications begin to weaken early. If that does occur, you are authorized to use any means necessary to subdue the prisoner and return him to the Ministry.

"If he presents an immediate danger to himself or someone else, you can activate his portkey and he will be sent directly to a Ministry holding cell. The incantation is _Portus Captus_ and that information should be shared with all other members of the household. It can also be activated remotely from the Ministry if he goes missing. You must report if the prisoner goes missing, or in any way violates the law; failure to do so will result in a fine.

"He is not to have contact with other paroled prisoners whether in person, by owl, or by any other means. He is to have only limited exposure to the public. When in public he must be chaperoned at all times. Approved reasons include medical care, Ministry business and emergency situations. Otherwise, you must complete this form in advance and wait for approval. Allow at least one week. Any questions?"

Ever the responsible one, Hermione's eyes scanned over the parchment, actually reading the document the wizard had glossed over. After a few minutes, she answered the increasingly impatient wizard.

"I do have a question. Will I need approval to take him out and about in Muggle communities?"

The wizard looked at her like she'd grown two heads and sputtered for a moment. Hermione had obviously thrown him off his routine. "I don't see why you would want to do that, Miss, but if you absolutely must, then that shouldn't be a problem provided he's chaperoned. We don't want prisoners wandering around the wizarding communities as they may incite panic in our citizenry."

Hermione nodded, but the wizard continued, "I'll remind you that this man is a nasty bugger, even with the Ministry charms. He'll still have evil impulses; he just won't be able to act on them. You might want to reconsider any romantic notions of cozy dinners and long walks on the beach."

Hermione smiled tightly. "I assure you I know the character of this man and the other Death Eaters. I've been fighting them since I was twelve. But I also think it could be educational and possibly even reformational for him to be exposed to the Muggle world. He is essentially a Muggle himself now."

Harry smirked. It was just like Hermione to take Lestrange on as her new project. He just hoped she wouldn't be disappointed if the man refused to cooperate. Of course she wasn't one to take defeat easily.

"He isn't worth the effort," the Ministry official returned, "but like I said, as long as you aren't in wizarding communities and he's chaperoned, _stupefy_ yourself. Unless you have any other questions, initial here and sign at the bottom."

She signed and handed it back. "I'd like a copy of that for my records."

"I'm certain you would." His tone was a bit mocking and Hermione bristled. Harry put his hand on the small of her back, to calm her down before she bit the man's head off, or hexed the man's bits off.

After he duplicated the form and handed the copy to her, he turned and walked off, presumably to fetch Lestrange. They waited in silence, Hermione fiddling with a loose string on the cuff of her robe, while he pulled at one of her honey-brown curls, watching it spring back into place.

A few minutes later, the attendant wizard returned followed by Lestrange, who towered over the short civil servant. Lestrange's hands were cuffed in front with magical shackles and he was wearing plain black robes and black shoes. His hair was long and unkempt and he had several days beard growth. His face was impassive even as his gaze fell on the pair waiting at the desk.

Anger flared in Harry at the sight of the wizard that he'd worked so hard to track down and imprison. This Death Eater would share his best friend – his wife.

He should have hexed Kingsley while he had the chance.

* * *

><p>The attendant brought Lestrange around the desk and held out a clipboard to Hermione. "Sign here that the correct prisoner has been transferred into your custody." Once she had, the magical cuffs dissolved and the attendant took the clipboard back. "He's all yours. Enjoy."<p>

She glared at the flippant Ministry worker's back. It would be so satisfying to hex that man. But she restrained herself. Kingsley wouldn't appreciate it if she caused a scandal already.

She looked back at the tall, shabby man who would soon be numbered among her husbands. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced, what with our previous encounters occurring during the heat of battle. I'm Hermione Granger. This is Harry Potter."

Rodolphus nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't speak. Harry nodded tightly and then looked away.

Hermione sighed. Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

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><p>AN: _Portus Captus_ roughly translates to "Transport Prisoner."

Thanks for taking time to review! I appreciate each and every one.

Next up: Things get a little Lestrange...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer_: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

**There is a _very_ minor change to the content in this chapter to make it M-rated. The MA version of the story will be available on Granger Enchanted in its entirety. See my profile for link.**

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><p><strong><em>Who are you and what did you do with the evil Death Eater?<em>**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Let's go, Mr. Lestrange. We've much to do. You'll need clothes and a haircut and shave." She turned and made for the elevators, trusting that the men would follow her.

Once they were heading to the atrium to exit the building, Hermione said, "I think we should stop at the barber and H&M to pick up some clothing. Easiest to take the Tube up to Camden and then walk home, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry grunted in response, his eyes fixed on the elevator doors.

Abruptly the elevator stopped. She couldn't take this. "Excuse me, Mr. Lestrange, but I need a private moment with Harry." She cast the _Muffliato_ and turned on her green-eyed friend.

"What?" he asked, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

"You've been really great today. Very supportive. And I love you for it, Harry. But I have to ask you another favor. I need you to set aside your hatred for Rodolphus and be civil. I know it's a lot to ask, maybe it's too much, but I have to be…intimate with this man. It would make it much easier for me if you could just pretend to get along for my sake. Please?"

Harry nodded after a moment. "I'll try to be good. For you. But if he—"

"If he puts so much as one pinky toe out of line, you have my permission to kick his arse."

He smiled a little at that. "Well, all right."

"Thank you, Harry." She flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hugged her back for a moment until she realized they were still in the elevator with an audience.

Cheeks hot, she straightened, canceled the muffling charm and restarted the elevator, setting her robe back to rights and patting her hair.

She stepped off the elevator, again without looking back, knowing they would follow.

"Have a good day, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," the Security Wizard called as they walked past, their footfalls echoing through the empty, cavernous space.

Once they were at the exit, Hermione stopped and shrugged out of her robe, revealing the jeans and sweater she was wearing beneath. Harry did the same and then they looked to Rodolphus.

He looked at them for a moment and then said, "I've nothing on beneath the robes."

Stupid, stingy Ministry couldn't even provide a pair of trousers. Well he certainly wouldn't be the oddest person on the Tube in his robes, but he would still attract attention. Hermione turned her wand on her discarded robe and transfigured it into a pair of black trousers.

"Here, they're probably a little large, but I can fit them once you've got them on." She turned around once he'd taken them and waited for him to dress. Harry watched him, probably worried the man was going to attack while her back was turned.

When he was finished, she turned back around. "May I change your robe into something more appropriate for Muggle London?"

He looked wary, but nodded. She swished and flicked and his robe became a warm, black turtleneck sweater. Then she shrunk the pants just a hair so they weren't too loose.

"Perfect. Let's go, shall we?"

As they walked she could feel Rodolphus looking at her. He was walking just slightly behind her and she had the distinct feeling he was looking at her bum, but she couldn't catch him at it. Harry trailed behind, probably too worried Rodolphus would run off to notice her new jeans.

It was amusing to watch the ex-Death Eater as they rode the escalator down into the Tube station and even more entertaining trying to teach him how to use the turnstile. The platform where they waited was deserted as it was not quitting time yet and Rodolphus was leaning over looking at the tracks, making Hermione rather nervous.

"Please be careful. The track is electrified. It can kill you if you touch it, and the trains come very fast."

"We're taking a train like to Hogwarts?"

"The same idea, but a bit different. These make stops locally to help people get around the city."

"Wouldn't it be easier to apparate?"

"Yes and no. If we were going directly home that would be fine. But it's risky to apparate blind in such a populated area. Besides I'm exhausted and I'm not up to side-along. And the last time I apparated from the Ministry with someone side-along, they got splinched."

"It didn't help we were running for our lives at the time," Harry said in an effort to make her feel better.

"No and it didn't help that I had to change course mid-apparition to get rid of Yaxley. At least Ron didn't lose anything vital."

She and Harry laughed at the memory that had been anything but funny at the time.

The train came then and they boarded a car, minding the gap. The seats were all full, so they stood, hanging onto an overhead bar, the men on either side of her.

"We need to exit quickly when it's our stop," she told her new ward.

He nodded at her but he was focused on the seats behind her. When she saw him wince in pain, she looked over her shoulder to see what he'd been staring at and to gauge what evil he'd been contemplating.

Sitting behind her was a guy about her age, his eyes fixed on her arse. She looked back up at Rodolphus.

"Your Muggle clothing has some disadvantages. Evidently I'm not permitted to punch him for ogling you." He winced again when he said the word "punch."

"There isn't anything to stop me," Harry said, placing one arm around her waist and pulling her so she nestled against his body, effectively hiding her bum from view.

Though it was a bit flattering to have them act possessive, it would get old quickly. "No need for violence, guys. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

Rodolphus nodded. "I'm certain that's true."

After a few stops and a line change, they made it to their destination with little excitement.

Their next stop was a little barber shop that Harry occasionally used. The Death Eater was quite leery of entering the Muggle establishment.

"I don't know about this. Perhaps you could cut my hair."

"I definitely wouldn't recommend that," Harry said, ruffling his already messy black mop. "It's taken a year for my hair to grow out right from when she cut mine."

Hermione smacked Harry on the arm and then said, "He's right. I'm pants as a barber. But you'll be fine. Harry is going to get a cut too."

"I am?"

"Please, Harry? It's getting a bit out of hand and we are getting married in a few days."

"All right," he conceded reluctantly.

"Thanks, Harry." She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but at the last moment he turned his head and caught her lips with his, kissing her thoroughly right there on the street.

Someone passing wolf-whistled and Hermione pulled away, blushing. "Sorry about that, Mione. I couldn't resist any longer. You're cute when you're bossy."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm always bossy, Harry."

His eyes were dancing as he agreed, "Mmmhmm."

Half flattered, half annoyed, she smacked him on the arm again and turned to find Rodolphus staring determinedly in the shop's window. Neither man argued as Hermione dragged them inside.

After a quick consultation, it was agreed that Rodolphus' hair would not be cut too short. When the task was finished, his dark locks fell in long, wavy layers, the ends curling at his collar. He still had some facial hair, but it was trimmed close. Hermione had to admit that he was handsome.

"Do you approve, Miss Granger?" he asked when he caught her staring.

She swallowed and nodded. "Indeed. It's quite an improvement."

His lips quirked in the slightest hint of a smile.

Harry came up then, thankfully interrupting the tense moment. He still looked like Harry, only a little less shaggy. With a nervous glance at Rodolphus, she let Harry grab her hand and lead her out of the shop toward the department store.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until an hour later, when Hermione had gone to the register to pay for the clothes, that Harry had a chance to speak with Lestrange alone.<p>

"Hermione wants me to be civil to you and I will do my best for her sake. But do not mistake civility for trust. I will be watching and if you hurt her, if you so much as look cross-eyed at her, you will be wishing for your cozy little cell in Azkaban. I killed your Dark Lord. I can handle you." The older man did not betray surprise at the threat, nor did he appear to doubt its sincerity. "Now nod if you understand."

Lestrange nodded.

"Well, that put a dent in my card," Hermione said as she walked up to the pair, not noticing the tension. "But it should keep you at least until I can get to Diagon Alley and pick up a few robes. You'll have to make me a list."

Very gravely he said, "Thank you, Miss Granger. You are quite generous. May I carry the bags?" She let him take the bags from her hand, obviously surprised by his manners.

"T-thanks. Er…Harry, are you ready to go?"

"Sure, Hermione. Home?"

"Yes, I'm anxious to get off my feet."

Harry took her hand again as they walked out. The urge to claim her as his own had been increasing, especially since he caught her admiring Lestrange earlier. Sharing her with Arthur and Kingsley, men he respected, was one thing. Seeing her attraction to this Death Eater felt like a bit of a betrayal.

The walk home was short and quiet. Every few moments, he would look over at Lestrange, just waiting for him to make a wrong move. But he hadn't. In fact, all afternoon he'd been polite, if a bit aloof.

He wasn't at all what Harry expected. He had anticipated disdain at the least, but wouldn't have been surprised at outright belligerence. Of course, that would have given him a reason to hit the wizard with a _Silencio_ and Hermione wouldn't be softening toward her new ward and future husband.

The only time Lestrange had acted as if charmed with the _Morum Immotatione_ was on the Tube. Harry had heard his explanation and couldn't blame him for wanting to hit the Muggle. He had some violent thoughts himself when he saw how the kid was looking at Hermione.

He supposed he couldn't really blame Hermione for being nice to Lestrange either. She was going to have to spend time in his company; all of them were. That would be easier if they were on friendly terms and so far the man hadn't done anything to suggest he wasn't willing to be cooperative. Hell, he'd even let her pick out his clothing without complaint.

In Grimmauld Square, Hermione paused to tell Lestrange that Harry Potter lived at 12 Grimmauld Place. He wasn't especially thrilled about allowing a former Death Eater into his home, but since Hermione had helped recast the _Fidelius_, the secret was safe. She was his Secret Keeper and he trusted her more than anyone. And Rodolphus was relatively harmless. But even a snake with his fangs pulled still bore watching.

"How did you come to own the ancestral Black estate?" The question was curious, not accusatory, but it still set Harry on edge.

"It was left to me by my godfather, Sirius Black. You know, the one your crazy bitch of a wife murdered."

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><p>Hermione watched as Harry stormed into the house and she heard Walburga Black's portrait start yelling before it was quickly silenced.<p>

Things had been going so well until then.

She looked at Rodolphus who was staring after Harry.

"I did not mean to offend," he said after a moment.

She sighed. "I know. Unfortunately your history and past associations are offensive on their own. I don't say that to be rude, only to warn you to tread carefully. Your mere existence will be enough to cause offense for some." Like Neville. She was going to have to speak with him before the meeting tomorrow. It would be unfair, and possibly dangerous, for him to walk into the situation blindly.

"But you are not offended by my existence?"

"I am trying very hard to see you as an individual and not as one of the collective of Death Eaters. I am willing to treat you with respect as long as you return the courtesy. We can each make the other's lives more difficult and my life is difficult enough at the moment, so I'd rather not if you don't mind."

"You are a very good witch, Hermione Granger. Kind and fair. I will do what I can to make your life easier."

"Thank you," she said with a nod. "We need to go in. I'd like to check on Harry."

She escorted Rodolphus up to the third floor, placing him the bedroom across the hall from her, the one Ron had been using before he moved back home. A couple quick spells tidied up, handled the dust and made the bed with clean sheets. He had agreed to stay put until she could assess the situation with Harry. She left him there promising to fetch him when dinner was ready. "I'm sorry I don't have time now, but I'll get you some reading materials later."

"I would enjoy reading or drawing if you have the opportunity to bring me something, but I am well accustomed to passing time without diversions. I will be fine."

Closing the door behind her, she cast a ward to alert her if he left. He seemed sincere enough, but Hermione didn't survive the war by being a fool.

She then made her way down the hall to the master bedroom, Harry's room, and knocked softly. Sirius Black was one of those tricky subjects. At times, Harry could laugh and talk about Sirius as if he were truly at peace with his passing. And then there were times when the horror of losing him, and Ginny, and the others was still very fresh.

"Harry," she called softly, opening the door a crack when there was no answer. "May I come in?" She heard an inarticulate grunt and decided to take that as a yes. Opening the door enough to slip inside, she saw Harry sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

Hermione sat down next to him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder and he immediately turned to her, wrapping her in a hug. He was dry-eyed but trembling and she shifted so she could hold him better, making soft calming sounds.

After a long silence he said, "I'm sorry, Mione. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"Shh. It's okay. I understand. But to be honest I don't think he meant to upset you."

"I know. I overreacted."

"No. It's okay to be upset."

"Sometimes I feel like we'll never be free of Voldemort. He's been gone almost a year and he's still ruining our lives. This doesn't feel like a victory."

"This is the part the movies don't show, Harry. The good guys win, the credits roll and it's supposed to be happily ever after. But in the real world you have to work every day to get to the happy ending."

"It's not fair."

"No, but it's better than the alternative. It's better than having Voldemort running around, gaining strength, taking over the whole world. You and I would both be dead, or worse."

His arms tightened around her spasmodically. "I don't know where I'd be without you."

"You don't ever have to wonder because wherever you go, I'm going too."

He lifted his head from her shoulder and sat back a bit to look down on her. "I love you, Mione."

His lips brushed against hers then, a silent benediction to his declaration. He kissed her again and this time he lingered until she opened to him. With that, his tongue found its way into her mouth, tasting her. Her response was tentative at first and unpracticed, but he didn't seem to mind as he kissed her with more fervor and she responded in kind.

She wasn't certain when it happened, but at some point during the kiss she went from sitting next to him to lying under him. Any secret worries she had about Harry seeing her as more than a friend were quashed as she felt him hard against her thigh. And the reaction he was creating in her, a heat concentrating low in her belly, was new and exciting and definitely not platonic.

His hand was gentle as it caressed her face and neck, brushing lightly over the side of her breast, down past her hip to her knee. With the slightest pressure, he encouraged her legs to part so he could settle between them.

She arched into him, moving instinctively, causing him to moan into her mouth. He ground against her, making her whimper. His hand found the edge of her sweater and was starting to make its way over the smooth, bare skin of her belly when she heard the alarm for the wards on Rodolphus' room.

"Damn," she muttered.

Harry pulled up, a question on his brow.

"I put Rodolphus in Ron's old room and warded the door. I hoped it wouldn't be necessary."

He was moving reluctantly away from her when they heard a yell.

"Oi! What the bloody hell are you doing in here?"

Recognizing that strident voice, they both jumped up and ran to the hall.

They found Ron standing with his wand drawn, presumably pointed at Rodolphus through the open doorway.

"Put your wand down, Ron," Hermione said, flicking out her own wand from its wrist holster.

Ron spun, wobbling a bit. His hair was mussed, his eyes glassy. It looked like he'd been on an all-night bender, but it wasn't even suppertime yet.

"There's a Death Eater in my room. Why's 'ere a Death Eater in my room?"

"It isn't your room anymore Ron. Remember? You're living at the Burrow."

"Can't go 'ome like thish. Mum'ld kick my arshe."

"Why would you come here? Last we saw you, you punched Harry and called me a Mudblood whore."

"Ancient history."

"It was five hours ago."

"'S'at all? Feels like longer. You know yer lucky, mate. Marryin' Hermimony. My wife's a fat, spotty, Huff-huff-hufflepuff." He leaned against the wall, his wand arm drooping. "Funny word, Pufflehuff is."

She summoned Ron's wand as he pondered the etymology of Hufflepuff and said to Harry, "Let's put him in my room. He needs to sleep this off."

"I'd rather put him on the front step and let the Muggles put him in jail."

"I don't think Molly and Arthur would appreciate that and Kingsley wouldn't thank you either. He's a Statute of Secrecy breach waiting to happen."

"Fine, if you want to use logic."

"Whenever possible."

He grinned at her and they each took one of Ron's arms leading him to her room. She used her wand to remove his boots and outer robes while Harry pulled the coverlet down.

He fell into the bed without grace and caught her hand as she pulled the covers over him. "You know I love you, Hermimony. I didn't mean what I said."

She looked at the sad eyes of the man that she once desired above all others. It wasn't true anymore. Call her a fickle female, but she knew he wasn't the one for her, with or without a law. Over and over he tried his best to break her heart. Today was just the most recent instance.

She pulled her hand away and patted the covers. "You can apologize to me properly in the morning when you're sober."

"'Kay." He closed his eyes and curled up on his side. She moved a dustbin next to the bed, just in case.

Once they were back in the hall with the door closed behind, Harry looked into the room where Rodolphus was sitting in a chair overlooking the shabby little square below. In a low voice he told Hermione, "I'll ward the front door, I don't see the point in forcing him to sit in that room staring out the window." He left to start dinner and Hermione turned to check on Rodolphus.

"Did he hurt you, Mr. Lestrange?"

"No, Miss Granger. You intervened before he could do anything. It was lucky he tripped your ward."

Heat climbed up her neck and into her cheeks. "Yes. I'm sorry to be distrustful, but you are my responsibility and I take that seriously. I will not allow you to come to harm or for you to cause another harm if I can help it."

"I'm glad you aren't as naïve as you seem. You will make a fine mother, I think."

"We'll find out soon enough, I guess. Would you care for a tour?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger, if I won't be in the way."

"Harry's making dinner and other than Ron, whom you just met, we're alone."

"Doesn't Mr. Potter have a house-elf?"

"Kreacher's at Hogwarts, helping with the clean-up. We aren't used to having servants underfoot and prefer to manage on our own. Harry does most of the cooking and I help with the washing up. Mrs. Weasley has shared a number of household charms that make it easy."

She walked to the stairs and gestured to the floor above. "There are two bedrooms on the fourth level. They belonged to Sirius and Regulus. I would suggest you stay out of them in the spirit of peace."

She showed him the other floors, the drawing room, the library and the dining room that Harry never bothered to use. Then she brought him to the back stairs that led down into the kitchen. When they were there, she gestured for Rodolphus to have a seat at the table and she asked if Harry needed help.

"No. I'm about done. Arthur owled. The meeting is scheduled for tomorrow at 11. The letter's on the table."

She scooped up the letter and read the neat, slanting script. When she was finished, she told Harry, "I'm going to owl back to let him know Ron is here and not to worry."

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><p>The silence was tense in the kitchen after Hermione left. Harry focused on the stew though it didn't need that much attention.<p>

The man at the table cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize, Mr. Potter."

Harry put down the spoon and turned. "If you mean about what happened earlier, then I accept. Other than that, I'm not in any position to forgive your sins."

"I don't think anyone is in that position, Mr. Potter. I was merely referring to the unintentional offense earlier."

Harry stared at him for a minute. "I really don't get you. In the war you were on the side that hates people like me or Hermione just because of our heritage. What's more, she and I stood against you and won. I was on the team that found you, and I fought to bring you in. A fight that ended in your brother's death, though I think it was his own spell that caused the cave-in."

"It was," Lestrange said in a tight voice.

"Even so, I have a hard time believing you can simply sit here and pretend it doesn't bother you. I doubt Lucius Malfoy will make any effort to hide his disapproval and dislike for either Hermione or me. And it's a mutual loathing, I assure you. So I'd like to know why you can sit at my table, ready to eat a meal I've made as if you're a houseguest and not under house-arrest."

It took Lestrange so long to respond that Harry thought perhaps he wasn't going to. "Many things have happened, Mr. Potter, and I find myself struggling to understand them, but I do not think the best course of action would be to reject the only kindness I've experienced in almost two decades. Not for a dogma that I am now certain is illogical, though I will admit I once supported it blindly.

"Two days ago, my magic was ripped from me. A pain more excruciating than the _Cruciatus_. Now I'm as magical as this table. I would be first on the list of unworthy, useless beings that the Dark Lord would destroy. If you believe nothing else, believe that I've had reason to rethink my previous convictions.

"I bear no grudge against you for defending your right to live freely, though I'm certain many of my former brethren do. Personally, I'd have no respect for you or Miss Granger if you had just succumbed like so many others."

"We don't need your approval or your respect."

Rodolphus nodded. "You have it nonetheless."

Harry turned back to the stove, stirring the stew with vicious motions that threatened to make the whole thing spill. The more the man talked, the less sense he made. What kind of Death Eater reversed their loyalties so easily? Except Malfoy. But Harry knew he was loyal only to his own survival. Malfoy would jump on the next Dark Lord's bandwagon in a second if he thought there was a chance he'd end up in power.

With Lucius Malfoy, he knew where they stood – on ever shifting ground. With Rodolphus, he couldn't help feeling they were being set up for betrayal.

It just meant he'd have to remain vigilant.

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><p><em>Morum Immotatione = <em>Behavior Modification

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it!

Neville is up next...


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **The_ characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

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><p><strong><em>I could have sworn you were an angel...but the toad knows better.<em>**

**CHAPTER SIX**

After dinner, Hermione showed Rodolphus how to do dishes the old-fashioned way and he took to the task with little difficulty and no argument.

When that was done, she found Harry in the drawing room, fiddling with the telly she'd charmed to work without electricity.

"I'm going to floo Neville and see if I can visit with him for a little while. I don't want him to be caught unawares tomorrow."

"Okay. Where's Lestrange?"

"I think he was going to pick out something from the library and read in his room. Here's Ron's wand in case he wakes up before I'm back. I didn't think it would be a good idea to leave him with it. Even sober he'd probably hex first and ask questions later."

"I'll keep an eye on things while you're gone. Don't worry."

"Thanks, Harry." She leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips, which he immediately tried to take advantage of. "None of that now, or I'll never get to Neville's."

He pouted playfully and gave her another quick kiss before she moved to the fireplace.

It took only a moment for Neville to answer her floo call and invite her over.

Longbottom Hall was a stately old home, not quite as grand as Malfoy Manor, but still impressive. Hermione had been here once before and recognized the room as the downstairs parlor.

She sat on a plush settee while Neville poured them each a beverage. It looked like he was drinking Firewhiskey and had been for a while now.

The room, the entire house, was dark and quiet, the only light coming from the fireplace. It was a little unsettling.

"Is your grandmother well?" she asked, more to fill up the silence than for any other reason.

"Yeah, she's gone up to bed for the night." He handed her a smoking glass. "I must say she was quite please it was you I ended up with."

"And how do you feel about it?"

He shrugged and slumped onto the sofa across from her. His jaw was stubbled with beard and his hair was as unkempt as Harry's.

"I want Luna back," he said, his face crumpling for a moment before he got ahold of himself.

It had seemed that Luna, his girlfriend since the final battle, was going to be spared by the plague, but she suddenly fell ill and went quickly, not long before the cure was discovered.

"I'm sorry." Hermione moved to his side, tears coming to her own eyes. She'd come to care for the odd little witch and missed her, but she couldn't imagine how Neville must feel.

"What's worse is there's a part of me that's happy it's you," he said, staring into his glass. "I had such a crush on you in school. You had to know. You were always so helpful and nice, even when the others weren't. And then at the Yule Ball, I thought you were the prettiest girl there. But I knew you didn't feel like that for me. Nobody did, 'til Luna. And doesn't that sound awful. Like I was settling for her because she was the best I could do, but that's not it at all. She was smart and sweet, a lot like you. And she was so funny and we were going to get married. But she's gone and it's my fault."

"Don't say that, Neville. That isn't true."

"It is though. She was fine and then we, that is to say _I_, got her pregnant. She was dead two weeks later."

"Oh, Neville. Why didn't you tell anyone?" She hugged him then, cradling him against her like she had Harry earlier.

"I couldn't. I just…I miss her."

"Of course you do. You love her." She felt him shudder, his arms snaking around her waist to clutch her closer. "But you have to stop blaming yourself. You didn't do this to her, Voldemort did."

"But if we'd just waited…"

"You didn't know and you could spend your whole life wondering about what might have happened differently. What if we'd managed to kill Voldemort earlier, or if the Ministry had protected itself better, or if they believed Harry back at the end of fourth year. You can drive yourself crazy with what-ifs. I don't think Luna would want you to dwell on things you can't change."

He didn't answer. He just held onto her for a long time.

His voice was tormented when he finally said, "I was prepared to hate the witch the Ministry picked for me, just because she wasn't Luna, because no one can take her place. But how can I hate you? I've half loved you half my life."

"Oh, Neville, I could never take her place. I wouldn't even want to try. It won't be the same, but I am your friend and I care for you. It's okay for you to love her, for you to always love her. And it's okay for you to miss her. Just because you're being forced to marry me doesn't mean you have to stop."

"I don't want to forget her."

"You won't, but it's natural for it to get easier. It's natural to keep her with you, but to eventually stop mourning. Going on with your life doesn't mean that you're forgetting her. Certainly she would've wanted for you to live a full life."

He was silent for a while and she hoped he would accept the truth in her words. After a few moments, he sat back and swiped at his eyes, but he seemed a bit better. He used his thumb to brush away a tear that had streaked down her cheek.

"You know, she always liked you, Hermione."

"I liked her too and I won't let you forget her."

"Thanks." He hugged her again and they stayed that way for several minutes before she remembered the original purpose of her trip. "Neville, I need to warn you about some of the other husbands."

His arms flexed around her. "Mr. Weasley already owled me. I know about Lestrange and the rest." His voice was cold.

"I just didn't want you to be surprised."

"As long as I don't have to speak to him, I'll do my best to ignore him."

"I'm sorry. I'd keep him away from you altogether if it was possible."

"This isn't your fault, Hermione."

"I know, but somehow I feel like I have to take care of you all."

"That's probably the binding magic."

"Binding magic?" She sat back and cocked her head to the side. "I don't think I've read about that."

"When a betrothal contract is issued there's a mild compulsion charm that encourages the parties to consummate the contract. In essence, the Ministry contracted you to each of your wizards and so you feel drawn to us. It doesn't override your will, and it doesn't make you fall in love or forget why you might not like your betrothed, but it will make you feel the need to be near him. The same goes for us. I almost came to find you at least a dozen times today."

"Why didn't I know about this?"

"It's an old pureblood thing for arranged marriages. That way they can ensure both of them show up at the wedding."

"And of course the Ministry invoked this magic to make certain we follow the law. Damned interfering…I swear I'm going to make Kingsley pay."

"Don't hurt him too badly. He's the best Minister we've had in ages. Besides, you would probably be taking care of us all in any case. That's just the way you are. You take care of people. I mean you helped search for a little boy's lost toad when you hardly even knew him."

She chuckled at the memory.

"You don't mind if I hold you for just a bit longer," he said, opening his arms to her.

"No, it's rather nice. You've grown quite fit, Neville Longbottom." She wasn't exaggerating. Gone was the pudgy little boy and in his place was a tall man with lean muscles.

He laughed in his self-deprecating way and then leaned back into the corner of the sofa, pulling her with him. She slipped her shoes off and curled her feet up next to her, laying her head on his chest, over his heart.

They lay there for a long time watching the fire burn lower. At some point she must've fallen asleep because she woke when the floo rang. Harry's head appeared in the flame as Neville slipped out from under her and went to kneel before the fireplace.

"Sorry to bother you, Neville, but it's getting late and I was worried about Mione."

"It's no problem mate, we fell asleep. I'll get her up and send her through in a minute."

"Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, can't wait."

Harry laughed at the sarcastic comment and disappeared.

Hermione sat up and stretched. "Sorry I fell asleep on you. It's been a long day."

"I didn't mind, but it is late and tomorrow will be even longer. I should let you get home."

He offered her a hand to help her up and she slipped on her shoes. They walked together to the fireplace. Before he reached for the floo powder, he turned to her. "Thank you for listening. I needed to get all that out."

"Anytime. And I mean that."

He reached out and tucked her hair back behind her ear, his hand lingering where it cupped her neck. Ever so slowly, he leaned toward her as if giving her a chance to back away. Then his lips were on hers, the stubble of his chin rubbing against her. His mouth tasted faintly of Firewhiskey and moved languidly.

She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, and when they parted, she rasped her thumb over the prickly hair.

"Sorry, I'll shave tomorrow."

"Only if you want to. Between you and me, I think it's kinda sexy." She kissed him again, just a peck as his lips twisted into a smile.

He reached for the floo pot and tossed a pinch of the green powder into the flames. "I'll see you in the morning."

With a nod and a small wave, she stepped into the fire and went home to Harry.

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><p>Hermione spent the night sharing Harry's bed since there was still a redhead in hers. For a moment, Hermione worried that Harry would expect to pick up where they'd left off earlier, but he didn't. He just kissed her goodnight and fell asleep, his body spooning hers. She was partly relieved and partly disappointed that they went straight to bed. On the one hand, she had enjoyed how he made her feel, but on the other, she wanted to go to her wedding a virgin. She'd made it this long and it seemed silly to give up so close to the finish.<p>

Morning came quickly since she'd gone to bed late, but it was lovely to wake up with Harry's arm holding her tight.

He was making eggs when she came down to breakfast, still in her nightwear, with her face freshly washed and her hair and teeth brushed. Harry was still in his pajamas, but he'd thrown on a t-shirt in deference to their "guest." She shuffled to the coffee maker and poured a mug, deeply inhaling the reviving aroma as she took a few sips.

Rodolphus was sitting at the table looking ready for the day. "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Good morning, Mr. Lestrange. I trust you slept well."

"Better than I have in ages, thank you."

She approached Harry and kissed his cheek, asking if he needed any help. He knew better than to have her help with breakfast. She was good with potions, but for some reason, that skill didn't translate completely into cooking. She was brilliant at baking with its precise measures, but that subtle art of a perfectly fried egg eluded her.

Instead, she set the table, remembering at the last moment to add a place for Ron.

As if her thought conjured him, the redhead stumbled into the room, still in his rumpled robes from the day before. He sat with a thump, his eyes at half-mast.

He had taken a large bite from a piece of toast before he realized everyone was staring at him.

"What?"

Hermione shook her head, partly in disgust at the view of half-masticated toast, but also because it figured Ron would be worried more about his breakfast than the drama he caused the day before.

"I think the problem is you punched me and insulted Hermione yesterday and now you're acting like nothing happened." It was Harry who answered, setting a platter of bacon and eggs on the table and taking his own seat.

Ron looked between Harry and Hermione. "Well, you hit me back and you're marrying the girl I love, so I think we're even." His tone was defiant though his stance wasn't. "And I apologized to Hermione last night. Didn't I?"

Through gritted teeth, she said, "I don't think it counts, Ronald, if you're too drunk to pronounce my name correctly." She stood from the table, chest bouncing with the motion.

Ron's eyes flicked to her breasts and she crossed her arms over them, glaring. He looked back at up at her, shame-faced. "I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have said that yesterday. It's not true. I know it's not true. You…you're amazing, brilliant really. Harry and I wouldn't have made it through first-year or any of the rest without you. I'm just jealous. I'm jealous of Harry and…Merlin…I'm jealous of my own dad. I'm even jealous of the Death Eater Squib here."

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"You can't behave like that and expect people to just forgive and forget, Ron. How do you think it makes me feel when one of my best friends says those things? That prat Malfoy can call me every name under the sun and I couldn't care less. But you and Harry know me better than anyone in the world and if you think those things about me then maybe they're true." Her lower lip began to tremble.

"Oh, Mione. No." Ron jumped up from his chair, letting it topple as he rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her. Harry moved closer too.

"I was mad and hurt and I wanted to hurt you too. I'm such an idiot. It wasn't true. You're a brilliant, powerful witch and you're beautiful and wonderful and I'm an awful, awful person. It's just Harry gets you and you get Harry, and I'm all alone."

Hermione was crying now. "But you were right. This law is going to make me into a whore. What kind of woman sleeps with ten men?"

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><p>Seeing that the boys were at a loss as to how to console the crying witch, Rodolphus interjected, "No, Miss Granger. You won't be sleeping with ten men. You'll be sleeping with ten husbands. It doesn't make you a whore; it makes you a polygamist. Considering the situation, it's the moral and decent thing to do." She looked at him through wide, wet eyes. There was little that made him less comfortable than a weeping witch.<p>

He hoped she'd see the sense in his words. On the whole she seemed like a sensible girl.

"I never thought I'd say this, but the Death Eater's right," Weasley said, finally letting her go. Rolph felt the quick lance of blinding pain as he considered throwing the overgrown redhead out of the house. If it wasn't enough that the boy had insulted his intended, he'd also been ogling her and now he was touching her.

It didn't help that the witch was barely dressed. Certainly she was not wearing enough clothes to be in the presence of a wizard who would not be her husband. Though it did seem from his brief experience yesterday that it was acceptable for a Muggle girl to show off her skin more freely.

She seemed to be calming now and Potter wrapped his arm around her, leading her back to her seat. "I don't want you to think those things any more, Mione. It's not true."

She sniffed and nodded as she sat, then she looked to him. "I apologize for my outburst, Mr. Lestrange. I've been a little overemotional the last few days. I can't remember the last time I cried so much."

"When you saw Hogwarts' library after the battle," Weasley said, then he grunted as Potter smacked the back of his head.

The witch's face fell. "All those books. Some of them were irreplaceable. That was a crime against humanity."

"Ron, you prat, we agreed never to mention the 'L' word. Mione, love, please don't cry again. Why don't you just hex Ron? That always makes you feel better."

With a nod and a sniff, she flicked her wand, Rodolphus wasn't certain where she'd been hiding it, and transfigured Weasley into a toad. He smiled, approving of her skills. Human transfiguration wasn't an easy feat.

Miss Granger did seem a little bit happier watching the little toad hopping about angrily.

It would be so easy to squash the boy in this form, Rodolphus thought with a wince. The pain was more intense this time, probably in proportion to the level of threat.

She warmed their breakfast with another spell and they each filled their plates and started their meals. Except for the toad. He was made to wait a few minutes before she changed him back.

Once she did, he complained, "I hate when you do that, Mione. _Croak_. My skin always itches for days after." He scratched at his neck as he spoke.

She looked thoroughly unmoved by his whining. "Well, if you wouldn't act like a toad, it wouldn't be necessary. Next time I'll just wash your mouth out with soap."

"No, no, that's okay," he quickly backpedalled. "I belched soap bubbles for a week last time and everything tasted awful. _Croak_. The itching isn't that bad."

"Always thinking with your stomach, Ron," Potter said, and the trio laughed.

"If you used your head more often, you wouldn't get into so much trouble," the witch added and they laughed some more.

"Do you feel the need to hex your friends often, Miss Granger?" Rodolphus asked, having enjoyed the mildly vindictive side of the witch. It was quite Slytherin really.

"Only Ron," she answered with a grin. "The rest of them realized it was stupid to upset me years ago."

"Don't be fooled, Mr. Lestrange," Potter said. "Our Hermione has quite an evil streak."

"I do not," she protested heatedly.

"Marietta Edgecomb would disagree," Potter said.

"So would Dolores Umbridge," the Weasley boy added, scratching his neck again.

"And Rita Skeeter." Potter and the other boy were laughing now.

"_Croak_. We could go on."

"Please don't," she said, laughing too, but red with embarrassment. "All I have to say is they deserved it."

"Of course they did, Mione. Keep telling yourself that."

Watching them interact, he was reminded how much younger they were than he. They were innocent in a way he'd never been as far as he could remember. It was hard to believe these three had accomplished all they were reported to have done.

The girl was quite clever and certainly powerful if she survived the _Purgatio_. Potter's power was more subtle, as if he kept it restrained. The Weasley boy seemed to provide little more than comedic relief, though he undoubtedly had skills. It was hard to believe they were the driving force behind the Dark Lord's downfall.

But he couldn't help but be a little envious of the trio's obvious bond and the soft smile his future wife was giving Harry Potter.

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><p><em>Purgatio = <em>the Purge

A/N: My thanks to all who have reviewed, faved and followed. I appreciate the support!

Next chapter we'll see what our favorite Potions Master thinks of all this and then meet up with the rest of the gang...


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._**

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><p><strong><em>And over there's where I bled all over the carpet. Ah...good times.<em>**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The laughter and the boy's teasing had done wonders for Hermione's mood. As they finished breakfast, she realized how precious these moments were.

"Merlin, I'm going to miss this." She got up from the table to take her dish to the sink.

"Me too, Mione." Ron came up behind her, put an arm around her waist and his chin on her shoulder.

Harry came over too and hugged her from the other side.

"Everything's going to be different now," she said, clinging to her two best friends.

Harry squeezed her tighter. "Yeah. You'll have to turn Malfoy into a ferret when you're feeling down."

She laughed, but quickly sobered. "We'll always be friends, though. Right?"

"Always, Mione."

"Always."

The moment passed when Hermione realized how late it was getting. Rodolphus offered to do the dishes and it was agreed Ron would owl them later to arrange a time to meet. She rushed off to take her shower and dress in her best day robes. Arthur's owl had instructed her that she'd have to collect Professor Snape from St. Mungo's before the meeting at Malfoy Manor and to "expect resistance." She would have to meet Harry and Rodolphus there.

* * *

><p>St. Mungo's, like the Ministry, was virtually deserted. Eight months ago, every bed had been filled with the victims of the curse. There had been beds in the halls, in the waiting areas, in offices and the cafeteria. Now the halls were empty and entire floors were shut down. Almost all of the long-term residents had been taken by the illness. In fact Professor Snape was the only one left.<p>

The healers said he had survived his injuries and the plague that followed by sheer stubborn will, the strength of his magic, and a few rare potions that the Potions Master had self-administered before falling into a healing coma.

But his recovery had been difficult, the healer told Hermione when she arrived to get her future husband released. The snake venom had left his body weak and slow to heal. Finally he was on the mend, but he tired easily and the healers kept him in the ward because it was likely he would overdo if he was on his own.

She was given a laundry list of instructions, half a dozen potions, and dire warnings as to the risks of letting him do too much.

After meeting with the staff, she went to his room, stomach churning with nerves. She knocked and opened the door tentatively when he called.

He was sitting in an armchair near the window, watching her enter.

"Ah, Miss Granger. I was wondering when I'd see you." Despite the injury to his neck, his voice was still low and silky smooth and it still made a strange warmth pool in her belly. He was in a black dressing robe over black pajamas, a throw lying across his legs.

"Hello, Professor." She hesitated just inside the door unused to seeing the man in anything but his formal teaching robes.

"I told Arthur I have no intention of going through with this farce of a marriage. They can put me in Azkaban."

She laughed at that. It was actually a relief that his personality was as surly as ever. But it was hard to feel intimidated by the man after she'd seen him on the verge of death. "I see we're going to skip the niceties and get straight to it."

He folded his hands over his lap. "I've no patience for 'the niceties' as you put it."

"No, I don't suppose you do." She smiled in response to his scowl, determined not to let his attitude cow her. "Well, in that case I'll get to the point. You should know that if you don't marry me, you'll still have to get me pregnant twice. They'll just keep you here until it's done and then put you in Azkaban."

She could tell her words made an impact, but he made a show of looking around the room. "I don't mind it here so much."

"That's ridiculous." Ignoring his affronted expression, she continued, "Either way, the Ministry will force the issue and your resistance will accomplish nothing in the end. Is it me specifically you object to, or is it the situation?"

"Both," he bit out. "You were my student, you're half my age, and you've been a pain in my arse for seven years. But I will confess that I'd not willingly marry any witch."

"Why is that?" she asked, moving across the room to look out his window at traffic on the street below.

"It is personal." His clipped tone closed the subject before it even opened.

"I would argue that what we're going to do is personal too, but I doubt it would sway you. So instead I'll answer the other objections you've already given me."

She turned around, leaning against the windowsill, facing him. "I am no longer your student. You are no longer a professor as there is no longer a school. There's no impropriety. You are older than me, but I am an adult, mature for my age" – he snorted at this – "and relieved that none of my husbands have had a centennial. I will have four husbands older than you. Arthur is ten years your senior, has probably considered me something of a daughter and is still in love with Molly. If he and I can manage this, then there's no reason you and I cannot."

She cocked her head to the side and smiled before adding, "As for being a pain in your arse, I doubt that will change."

He snorted again, but this time his lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. "You realize that isn't the best sales pitch."

She shrugged. "I believe in truth in advertising."

He smirked at that, but he quickly grew serious again. "You're certain there's no escaping the Ministry on this?"

She shook her head. "I read the original legislation, not just what the Prophet published. I looked for the loopholes. If there were any, I'd be long gone…no offence."

"None taken."

"Since we're stuck, there's no sense in giving up all your freedom." She walked to him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn't shrug her off.

He did look out the window for a very long time, pensive. His voice was soft when he finally spoke. "I can never love you."

That hit like a bludger to her pride. For some inexplicable reason she wanted to cry, and her reaction surprised her, but she managed to remain calm and dry eyed. "I did not ask you to."

"I think it's only fair for you to know that up front."

She swallowed thickly. "I appreciate the warning, but I don't think it will be a problem. While I will admit to an admiration of your intellect and bravery, I've not been harboring tender affections for you all these years." Unless he counted the brief crush she had on the man after he protected them from a werewolf back in third year. A fact she certainly wasn't going to mention.

He nodded, still looking into the distance. "Good."

"Well in that case, we'd best get you up and dressed or we'll miss all the fun."

He refused her assistance, asking her to leave the room while he dressed on his own, but she insisted he sit while she packed his belongings.

From his chair, he barked orders like a reigning monarch and she bustled about collecting clothes, books and other personal items.

The healers wanted him to limit his magic usage, so she shrank the bags for him when they were ready. He pocketed them and then reluctantly took a seat in the wheeled chair one of the attendants had brought. Floo travel was also disallowed, so she pushed him to the apparition point and apparated him side-along to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

It was just past eleven when they arrived, so they weren't too late, but it did mean that all of her future husbands would be waiting for her. She offered her arm to him for the long walk up the drive and was surprised when he actually accepted her help. It was an indication of just how easily his strength was taxed.

At the door they were met by a solemn house-elf dressed in a crisp, white pillowcase, and motioned toward the drawing room.

Hermione meant to move her feet in the direction of the room, but found she couldn't.

In a low, mocking voice, Severus said, "You're trembling, Miss Granger. Surely your legendary Gryffindor bravery isn't deserting you now."

She _was _trembling – partly in fear and partly in fury. "That bastard is hosting this meeting in his drawing room."

"Yes," he said impatiently, starting to walk, forcing her to come along.

She allowed herself to be pulled along for a few steps before she dug in her heels. "The same drawing room where Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me nearly to death a year ago."

He stopped walking and turned. She could feel him scrutinizing her, but she was too busy trying to keep her legs from collapsing to look up at him. Finally he said, "Lucius is trying to establish his dominance. He wants you upset and off-balance. Do not allow him that victory. It's crucial you don't show fear or he won't ever stop testing you."

He paused, gently grasping her chin and tilting her head back so her eyes met his.

"Do you understand me, Miss Granger?"

She understood him, but was having a hard time forming a response.

Oh no. Not now.

"Miss Granger? Hermione?"

Shortly after the final battle, she'd had her first attack after a confrontation with an arse at the Ministry. It had only happened two more times since, usually during or after moments of stress. Her breaths were coming rapidly and she couldn't even manage to nod her head. She certainly couldn't do anything when he leaned down and kissed her. It was swift and hard, but it was effective in bringing her back to the present.

She blinked as he pulled away. "I'm sorry for taking liberties, but it was that or a slap and we need to seal our betrothal—"

"With a kiss," she interrupted him, suddenly feeling much better. "Yes, I'm familiar with the ritual by now. And thank you. I was halfway to a panic attack. As if this isn't stressful enough."

"You will be fine," he said with as much certainty as if conveying a scientific truth to a class of first-years. "Lucius is playing power games because he is quite insecure. His reputation is in tatters, he barely managed to stay out of prison and his influence in the current Ministry is non-existent. Believe me when I say you have more power here than he does."

The dark eyes of the imposing Potions Master were sincere and, against all expectation, his words comforted her.

"Now normally in these situations, it is polite to greet your host first, but I think in this case, it would be best if you go to Arthur. It will help establish him as the head of the household even if we aren't in his home. And it will irritate Lucius."

She nodded, gave the dark haired wizard a shaky smile, and he switched their grip so that he was no longer leaning on her for support, but was now escorting her.

The other nine men were seated about the room, talking in small groups, or sitting silent. All eyes turned to them when they entered.

"I apologize for keeping you all waiting. St. Mungo's wasn't keen to let me go." Severus said, with a quirk of his lips and a talent for fabrication that he'd honed during almost two decades of spying.

Arthur and Malfoy both stood as did Harry and a few others, but when she took a step toward Arthur, he walked forward to greet them. He shook Severus' hand and Severus passed her over.

Arthur kissed the back of her hand and then her cheek. "Hello, Hermione. I trust all is well since I saw you last."

"Yes, Arthur. Thank you for arranging everything."

"My pleasure. I suppose you should greet the others.

She grasped his arm like she'd been clinging to Severus. "You won't leave me?" she asked in a low voice.

He bent down to murmur in her ear. "Don't worry, dear. I'll let no harm come to you."

Smiling up at him, she let him lead her around the room, starting with the Malfoys who were closest.

"Miss Granger, such a pleasure to see you again," Lucius said. His long blond hair was caught neatly at the back of his neck. His robes were the finest emerald green silk.

She smiled coldly and offered her hand. As he pressed a kiss to the back of it, she said, "Mr. Malfoy. It is kind of you to host this gathering in your home. I'm pleased to see you were able to salvage the chandelier. It's such a lovely old piece. It would have been a shame if it had been destroyed."

Lucius cleared his throat, looking toward the light fixture which had caused the diversion that allowed her and her friends to escape last year. "Ah, yes, the elves were able to restore most of it. Unfortunately some of the crystals are no longer original."

She followed his gaze to the extravagant light fixture. "That is a shame, but it doesn't detract from its beauty, if it's any consolation."

His gaze switched to her, eyes narrowing as he examined her. After a moment, he tilted his head ever so slightly toward her and said, "That is a consolation indeed. I'm glad to welcome you in my home under more pleasant circumstances."

"Thank you." Hermione felt like she'd managed to score a point and come out ahead in this skirmish. But she didn't kid herself that she'd won the war.

"I believe you know my son, Draco."

"Of course." She offered her hand to the tall blond and he bent over it though he didn't kiss it as her father had. "I hope you've been well, Draco." She had always called him by his surname in school, but she deliberately used his first name now. If he noticed, he didn't make a point of it.

"I've been as well as can be expected under the circumstances." An ambiguous answer and possibly a veiled insult.

"I know what you mean," she responded with a small smile, though she wasn't entirely sure she did. She then pulled her hand back and moved on.

Kingsley was next and he took her hand flipping it over to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Minister," she said, wondering if he could feel the way his lips made her pulse race.

"Little one," he murmured against her skin.

"I'm mad at you, Kings." She snatched her hand back.

"What did I do now, witch?" he asked with a wide smile.

"It has something to do with personal freedom and binding magic. I've decided not to loan you that book. You'll probably use it for ideas." She noticed Lucius watching her interaction with the Minister with interest and she decided to drop it. "I'll berate you later, in private."

"See, you're already getting the hang of being a politician's wife."

She just smiled and shook her head.

Goyle was next, sitting off by himself. It had been almost two years since she'd seen him for more than a moment in the heat of battle. The boy who had at one time been thick and thuggish had shot up in height. He was still big and muscular. His face had become leaner, showing a strong jaw. In all honesty, he was hot, in a broody kind of way.

She offered her hand with a soft, "Hello."

He didn't quite look at her and he didn't speak, but his slightly moist hand briefly squeezed hers before he released it.

The entire time, Arthur stayed with her, his hand resting on the small of her back in an almost proprietary gesture.

Rodolphus was next and he took her hand and kissed the back gallantly.

"I hope you and Harry had no difficulty getting here, Mr. Lestrange."

"No. Thank you, Miss Granger. I am not fond of side-along apparition, but I suppose I'll have to adapt."

"Perhaps I can introduce you to other forms of Muggle transportation. You seemed to take to the Tube easily enough."

"I look forward to it." He winked at her before Arthur led her away.

"That was unexpected," the redhead commented under his breath.

"We're going to try being nice to each other. So far it's been rather easy."

Arthur nodded, but was pensive.

He led her across the room to Cormac. Ugh.

It wasn't that Cormac was unattractive. Quite the opposite, he was rather handsome with wavy blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. The problem was he knew he was attractive and that was so very unattractive.

"Hermione," he said, bending down to kiss her. She turned her head to the side so that he ended up kissing her cheek.

"Hello, Cormac. Have you been well?"

"Yes, quite. I've been promoted at the Ministry." He reminded her strongly of Percy, but with a more predatory quality. His eyes were focused on her neckline as he spoke. "It seemed like fate when we were matched."

Yes. A fate worse than death.

Okay, maybe that was overstating things a bit.

She gave him a weak smile and moved on to Neville.

Neville, she hugged. "How are you holding up?" she murmured in his ear.

He shrugged. "How about you?" he asked as she pulled away.

"About the same."

She turned to Harry and was again swallowed in a hug.

"I could kill Lucius Malfoy," he said and she knew he was referring to the use of this room and its reminders of the past.

"I know. But it's okay. He can't hurt me, remember?"

"That's right, love." He set her back on her feet.

"Give me strength?"

"All I have is yours."

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><p><strong>Next up: Awkward conversations, decisions by committee and Hermione spends a little time with Draco.<strong>

**Thanks for the continued support! I appreciate each comment and review, follow and fave!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._**

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><p><strong><em>All in favor of the missionary position say, "Aye."<em>**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Once all of her husbands were properly greeted, Arthur guided her to a seat between him and Severus on a lavish sofa.

As soon as they'd settled, Arthur turned to Severus. "I assume you know everyone."

The Potions Master smirked. "Yes, I've had the pleasure."

"Terrific. Then we can get right down to it," Arthur replied, his cheerful tone at complete odds with the darker wizard's sarcasm. "So as you all know, this law appoints the eldest spouse as the head of house. From what I understand, that means the final decisions with regard to the Granger family, as we'll be designated by the Ministry, will rest with me. Luckily, I have some experience with managing a large family and I know that acting as a dictator is not the way to peace and harmony. So unless the situation calls for an immediate decision or if we cannot come to a consensus, I intend to follow the will of the majority. That said, Hermione's opinion may carry more weight than anyone else at times and in those cases, I will defer to her. Does anyone have any issues with that?"

This was greeted with silence, so he went on. "Good. So the first order of business is that we are required by the law to set up one household and each member of the household is required to spend an average of six nights per week in the house. I believe the intent, and correct me if I'm wrong Kingsley, is for the family to bond as our children will all be growing up as siblings. We need to decide where we would like to make our home. Does anyone have a suggestion?"

The elder Malfoy spoke up first, "Malfoy Manor can easily accommodate all of us and any offspring. Although I have had quite enough of being dictated to while I'm in my own home."

Arthur nodded tightly, the hand which rested beside hers on the sofa clenched into a fist, but his voice was even when he responded, "I do not care about the daily running of your house, Malfoy. I would restrict my interference to matters affecting the family. But perhaps there is another suggestion. The Burrow does not have sufficient rooms unless we renovate."

Harry spoke up. "Grimmauld Place is large enough for now, but it won't work very well once there are children. There's not enough land and the neighborhood isn't great. I've property in Godric's Hollow, but I would need to rebuild before it would be acceptable."

"The Minister's home is large enough," Kingsley said, "but it is Unplottable and Secret Kept for good reason, as is Grimmauld Place. I don't think it would be wise to open either of them for the family."

"My Gran still owns Longbottom Hall. There would be plenty of room, but she won't let us use it for obvious reasons." Neville's eyes flicked for the briefest of moments to the corner where Rodolphus sat.

Cormac's home wasn't large enough, Goyle's family's assets had been seized because of his father's participation in the war and the Lestrange properties had all been seized after the first war. Hermione already sold her parent's modest four-bedroom home to fund their relocation and Severus' house was too small for one, according to him.

"It seems as though Malfoy Manor will be ideal," Arthur finally conceded to a seemingly smug Lucius Malfoy. "We have until the binding to move in."

They each agreed to contribute a small monthly rent to the Malfoys to account for the expenses of food and such. Rodolphus' would come from the stipend provided by the Ministry to the prisoner's guardian. Hermione would be exempt. When she offered, Lucius refused saying he would not charge his wife rent and that was the end of it.

That started a discussion about providing Hermione with spending money for clothes and such. It was proposed that they set up an account and all contribute an amount each month, but that's where Hermione put her foot down.

"I'll not have you paying me like some sort of…of prostitute. My needs are not extravagant. I have my own money, even if I'm not able to work."

"Little one, you may need to outfit yourself in ways you wouldn't normally and as your husbands, it's our responsibility to provide for you," Kingsley said in his most diplomatic tone.

"Fine. If you wish to put something into an account for me from time to time, I won't object, but it should be up to each of you how much and how often. Not everyone has the Minister's salary or twenty generations of family money to live from. And not everyone is going to need me to appear at a function in the latest fashion. I'd prefer you all put your extra into trusts for our children."

They all agreed, some with more reluctance than others.

"So that brings us to the binding ceremony," Arthur continued. "When and where."

Kingsley spoke up then, "I will need to invite the press to this event and it wouldn't be a bad thing to have the public there as well."

"So we'll need a venue large enough to accommodate a crowd."

It was finally decided that Hogwarts' grounds would be the venue. The ceremony would take place the next day at noon, which served two purposes. First, it was the spring equinox, and as such it would be an ideal day to hold a binding, especially one such as this. The second was that the Ministry would not begin holding services until the following day, so it was likely to be the first, as was fitting for the Minister's binding.

It gave them less than 24 hours to arrange everything. Kingsley would be responsible for notifying the paper, issuing invitations and arranging security for the service. Arthur would go to the Binding Department at the Ministry and ensure that all the paperwork was in order. He'd also find a wizard to perform the ceremony. Neville, Goyle, Cormac and Harry would all go to Hogwarts this afternoon to find an appropriate spot and to prepare it for the binding. Lucius agreed to acquire appropriate dress robes for those who didn't have them already. Draco, Severus and Rodolphus would work with the Malfoy elves to arrange a reception and ball for the VIP guests, which would include immediate family, close friends, important political figures and a few members of the press.

Hermione's task was simple. She had to find a dress.

The only difficulty came about when Hermione was asked about her parents. It was traditional in the binding ceremony for the parents of the bride to give their blessing. Arthur approached the subject delicately, thinking perhaps her parents might not approve of the situation. Only Ron and Harry knew the truth of the matter.

Hermione simply answered, "My parents won't be available for the service. We'll simply have to skip that part." Her voice was thick and she had her hands clasped tightly to keep from losing control of her emotions. She glanced at Harry who gave her a sympathetic look.

"Perhaps there is someone else in the wizarding world who could take that role."

"Well if the situation were different, I'd ask you to do it Arthur, but I doubt that's appropriate under the circumstances."

"What about Ron," Harry suggested gently. "He is the one giving you up."

She heard a snort from the Malfoy corner of the room, but everyone ignored it.

"Do you think he would do it?" Arthur asked with skepticism. He'd witnessed the argument yesterday.

"If Mione asks him to he will. They made up this morning."

"Well, if he won't, I'm certain Bill will stand in."

"Thanks, Arthur. I'll owl Ron when we're finished."

With the ceremony details arranged, they moved onto the topic that Hermione had been dreading. The consummation.

"The binding ceremony is not legal until the relationships are consummated," Arthur said, reading from the Ministry paperwork, red tingeing the very tips of his ears, reminding her of Ron. "Additionally, the law requires daily relations with at least one spouse until conception and states that those relations must include all of the husbands on a rotating basis until such time that the spouse has been provided two children. After the initial consummation and conception, relations are not required by law during the pregnancy or for two weeks following the pregnancy, during any periods of genuine illness as confirmed by a mediwitch, or during the witch's monthly courses." Hermione could feel her face growing redder by the second. She couldn't bear to look anywhere but at her white knuckles. "But as there is a fidelity clause in the binding, there is an expectation that relations would continue voluntarily during pregnancy so long as it isn't a danger to mother or child."

There he paused, and from the oppressive silence, she knew everyone was waiting for her to respond. Words failed her.

Arthur prodded, "Do you have any thoughts on this, Hermione?"

Oh dear Merlin.

She opened her mouth and forced her tongue and lips to form words. "Ah…I will n-not—"

"Speak up, girl," Severus interrupted in his most dismissive tone. "I'm sitting right next to you and I can't understand you. Stop stammering and blushing like a bloody virgin and say it already."

That got her fired up. "Well I am a bloody virgin, you arse, so I don't know how else to act." There was no issue with her volume now, and she even managed to say the v-word without hesitating. "As I was saying," glaring at Severus who was staring at her slightly agape, "I will not deny my husbands' needs during pregnancy, though I reserve the right to change my mind if my husbands are going to act like insensitive prats."

As she spoke Severus continued to stare and finally she said, "What the hell are you gaping at?"

Arthur's hand was on her low back. "I believe Severus is surprised that you've never been with a man."

"Oh." Some of her anger evaporated at that.

"Yes, I was given to understand you'd been involved with Potter and Weasley in school," Lucius said, looking toward his son.

Draco shrugged. "That was the rumor."

Hermione sent her glare in that direction. "Yes, well rumors can't be trusted."

"But didn't you and the boys hide out together for months last year?" Kingsley asked, genuinely surprised.

"It was so romantic," she said, jumping to her feet. "Running for our lives, trying to decipher Dumbledore's vague hints so we could find a way to destroy a megalomaniac, sleeping in shifts so there was always a lookout. Forgive me if that just doesn't spell seduction in my book. We were saving the world! Why's this so bloody hard to understand?"

This was met by silence and a snort from Harry, who was the next recipient of her glare. He immediately shut up.

"I didn't sign on for deflowering virgins," Severus said, getting to his unsteady feet.

"Sit down, Severus Snape," she said, the air practically crackling around her. "We've been through this already, you and I, and I won't do it again. There's no point to it. Nothing has changed and you won't be responsible for any deflowering. Only one of you will be sleeping with a virgin in any case, and that will be Harry, unless he objects."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "You'll get no objections from me, love. I know better than to argue with you when you've made up your mind."

"Why Potter?" Cormac asked.

"Because I trust Harry Potter more than anyone else in this world. After that, I do not care how you determine the order," she said, directing the latter part of her comment to Arthur. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I need some air."

She turned and left the room.

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><p>Chatter erupted amongst the men after Hermione left. Father and Shacklebolt were discussing the ancient blessings that could be invoked when the bride was a virgin, which was a fairly rare occurrence nowadays. Weasley was calming Snape, who still looked ready to bolt. McLaggen was looking around the room as if appraising the value of the artwork and Longbottom was asking Potter if they should go after her. Lestrange was looking after the girl as if he might follow her, too, and Goyle was staring at the floor in silence – he hadn't spoken more than two words the entire time.<p>

Before Lestrange or one of the Gryffindors could decide to go wandering through the Manor unsupervised, Draco got up and excused himself.

He wasn't certain what compelled him to go after the girl. Perhaps he was worried the curious witch would stumble across objects that could be harmful if touched, or that she'd get lost in the multitude of passageways so similar in layout and décor as to be identical, or that she'd find the hall of portraits and would have a hundred Malfoy ancestors berating her blood status. But it was mostly because he didn't want her to run across his mum. Neither was in the best state of mind for a confrontation.

Only two steps from the drawing room, he saw that the front door was cracked open. Well at least she wasn't nosing around where she shouldn't be.

Draco opened the door and found the girl who would become his unwanted bride sitting on the steps, an elbow propped on one knee, her hand cupping her chin in an inelegant pose that would've horrified his childhood deportment tutor, Mr. Higgens.

"Are they deciding which sexual position would be best for my deflowering now?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

He bit back a laugh. "I'm partial to the reverse-cowgirl myself."

She gasped and twisted around, surprised it was him. "I thought you were Harry." She sniffed. "You wear the same cologne."

"I highly doubt it."

"Clive Christian 1872. I bought him a bottle for Christmas."

"It's an expensive cologne."

She laughed. "Yes. But it was the one I liked best and I thought it suited him. It suits you too." She looked back at the door behind him. "Do they need me back already?"

"No. I came to make certain you didn't get lost."

"Worried I was going to go through your things? Steal the silver? Graffiti the hallways?" Her tone was light and teasing, but there was an underlying wariness, as if she was waiting for an attack, verbal or otherwise.

He just shook his head with a smile. She was kind of amusing and pretty, with sunshine glinting from the golden highlights in her brown hair. Father had been adamant that he set aside his past grievances with the girl and embrace this marriage, though it seemed it would be difficult for the older Malfoy to follow his own advice. Draco had to admit she was well-connected in the new political regime. Hell, she'd be married to the Minister. A favorable alliance with her could go a long way to restoring the Malfoy name.

Besides, Draco was tired of fighting.

"Come on, I'll show you the gardens. There are much nicer spots if you want to brood." Draco walked down the front steps, not waiting to see if she would follow. If she wasn't going to, she'd be arguing with him by now. He took the path around the side of the house into the rose gardens.

The gardens were charmed to bloom all year, protected from drastic changes in temperature. It was one of his mum's favorite spots and he only hoped they wouldn't cross paths. Behind him he heard her rapid footfalls as she tried to catch up with his longer strides. After a few twists and turns, the path led to a bower of roses that hid a fountain with a maiden carrying a spilling vase. It was one of his favorite places to hide. He took a seat on the little bench and waited as she perched next to him.

"This is lovely. I don't know that I've ever seen roses this color." She fingered the petal of a bloom that was a delicate blue-silver.

"That's because it's a Malfoy exclusive. My mother created it."

"It's gorgeous. She must have excelled in Herbology."

"Yes, it was her favorite subject."

"Will she be taking clippings with her?"

"No. She won't be leaving the Manor."

"Oh?" Her brow puckered as she tried to figure that out.

"My mother is not able to have any more children. She won't be remarrying."

She put her hand to her mouth. "And yet they've dissolved her marriage to your father? How horrible."

"We weren't exactly in a position to complain."

She gave him a rueful smile. "I was in a position to complain and you see where that got me."

"Not anxious to marry me?"

"I believe my exact words were, 'The gods are punishing me.'" She laughed, a sound that he found himself enjoying. "I'm certain you were just as thrilled with the idea of marrying me."

"I did think something along the lines of, 'Kill me now,' but I suppose it could be worse."

"Sure. I could be Dolores Umbridge."

"That's not even funny. Blaise Zabini got matched to the old toad. He'll need buckets of lust potion. And an _Obliviate_ after."

"Tell him to come see me. I'm quite good at memory charms." She smiled, but then sighed. "I'm really sorry about your mother. Will she be okay with all of us staying here?"

He shrugged and pulled a petal from one of the Malfoy roses. "At least she won't be all alone. She was talking about opening the dower house and I think that might be for the best. That way she'll have her own space and won't have to see someone taking her place. Her only worry is that the Ministry might force her to leave the Manor altogether."

"That won't happen. They can't make her leave. Not if I issue the invitation to stay myself. And if they do, Kingsley will fix it, or he will be very sorry."

Her brown eyes blazed and he couldn't help but pity the Minister if she didn't get her way. "You're a little scary, you know."

She laughed at that. "Ron always says that."

He withheld a grimace at being compared to the Weasel. "So I thought you and Weasley were an item."

"We were for a while, but it never really went anywhere. It just wasn't the right time, and to be honest, I think it's better that way. At least now there's a chance we can stay friends."

Draco nodded, wishing he'd thought to avoid a sexual entanglement with Pansy. It had almost ruined their friendship, and even now things were strained. It was just one more thing he'd have done differently if he'd known. Of course he could never have predicted he would end up here, having this conversation with this witch.

Life was weird.

He looked at the girl who would soon be his wife. "You realize this is the first time we've ever had a conversation that didn't end in hexes or insults or punches in the face."

She smirked up at him in a way that would have infuriated him in school, but now he found sort of endearing. "I could hex you now if it would make you more comfortable."

He laughed at that, as she'd intended, the noise startling a flock of birds from the nearby trees. The sound surprised him too. It had been ages – before he'd taken the Dark Mark maybe – since he'd felt like laughing, since he'd felt this light. And as the witch beamed up at him, her eyes crinkling in mirth, he decided this marriage might not be so bad.

The silence that followed his laughter was oddly charged as they stared at each other, still smiling, sitting so close that he could feel the heat of her body. Finally he said, "No hexes necessary, Hermione, but you may want to hit me after I do this." He leaned in and kissed her, moving fast enough that he couldn't second guess himself and so she couldn't move away. The kiss was little more than a peck, but it accomplished what it needed to. Their betrothal was sealed.

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><p>Next up: The witch formerly known as Mrs. Malfoy and Hermione spends some time with those who've been neglected...<p>

Thank you all for the continued support and fantastic comments.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Can we consider ourselves disclaimed yet? Still not my property. See previous chapters for the official verbiage._

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><p><strong><em>Someone get this girl some lip balm.<em>**

**CHAPTER NINE**

Draco's kiss took her by surprise and he was right – her first instinct was to hit him. She told him as much and enjoyed seeing his blue-grey eyes, the same shade as the roses, crinkle with laughter.

"I don't think you laugh nearly enough," she said. His smile made him much more appealing.

"There hasn't been much to laugh about for a while."

"Isn't that the truth." She looked about the garden unable to believe any evil could touch such an enchanted place. "Perhaps things will get better now."

"Perhaps."

"Well I'd better go back before they send out a search party. I'm certain there's some decision about my personal life they'd like to make in front of me while watching me blush a horrid shade of puce."

He smiled again as he led her from the gardens, this time at a pace she could match. "You're rather funny, you know."

"Funny-haha, or funny-in-the-head? You know what? Don't answer that. We've been getting along so well, I'd hate to ruin it by having to hex you now."

He laughed again as he led her by the hand from the gardens and into the morning room which opened onto a patio overlooking the grounds. The room was decorated in peach tones with white-washed furniture giving it a homey feel that the more formal drawing room lacked. The room was also occupied.

Draco's mother was sitting on a loveseat drinking tea. Hermione stumbled to a stop.

The older woman eyed the pair of them, zeroing in on their joined hands. Hermione immediately snatched her hand back as if she was doing something wrong.

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy."

"It's Madam Black, or haven't you heard?"

"Draco did mention that. I'm sorry for this situation and my part in it."

The woman looked at her coolly for a moment and then turned to Draco. "It is nice to hear your laugh, son."

"Thank you, Mother. Miss Granger and I ought to get back."

The woman nodded again and Draco gestured for her to precede him from the room.

Obviously the woman hated her, but could Hermione really blame her? She was coming in, taking her husband and her son, her house and her name. She would have been angry too.

They made their way back to the drawing room in silence that felt less companionable than it had before.

"There you are, Hermione. Thank you for finding her, Draco," Arthur said as they came in the room. The meeting was obviously over and the men were milling about, snacking on a luncheon the elves had lain out. "Kingsley's already left. He said he would see you at the ceremony tomorrow. The others are getting ready to go, but all of the betrothals must be sealed before I can get the binding license."

"Okay. Is there a room nearby that I can use, Draco?"

"You can use the parlor across the hall."

"Thanks." She scanned the room looking for the ones she still hadn't kissed. The first she spotted was Cormac. Ugh. Double ugh. She took a fortifying breath and decided to just get it over with.

She walked across to him and tapped his shoulder, taking him from a conversation with Neville who looked grateful for the intervention.

"May I see you alone for a moment, Cormac?"

"Of course, my sweet," he said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. He walked with her to the parlor, another formal, but more intimate room.

Once they were alone, Hermione's instincts were to flee, like she had at the Christmas party three years ago, but this time, she had to let him catch her. She backed away and he stalked forward until she was pressed against the back of a chair and he was looming over her.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time, Hermione Granger. You were such a little tease in school; you drove me absolutely crazy. But no more playing hard to get. I've got you now."

His hands ran over her shoulders and down to her wrists, picking them up and wrapping them around his neck. He pressed against her, his body trapping hers. And then he tipped her head back and kissed her.

He lacked the finesse of Kingsley and the passion of Harry, but Hermione hated to admit she felt something stir within her as he consumed her. For a moment she allowed herself to get lost in the kiss. It was when his hand groped her breast that she pushed him away.

"Come on, sweet, we'll be married tomorrow."

She whipped out her wand and aimed it at his crotch. "You'll be screaming today."

He smiled and raised his hands, stepping back. "So feisty. You know you want me. Soon you'll stop fighting it." With a wink, he turned and walked from the room, whistling.

Hermione sat down, her legs trembling too hard to hold her.

That boy was too much. She was angry with herself for responding to his kiss and livid with him for pushing too far.

It took her several minutes to get her emotions under control.

Goyle was hovering in the hallway when she finally got up the nerve to leave the parlor.

"Hello," she said softly. It looked as if a loud noise might spook him. "Do you want to come in?"

He glanced at her quickly and then away. He nodded and brushed past her into the room.

The furniture in the parlor was all so delicate, and he looked a bit ridiculous perched on a pastel, silk-covered chair, as if it would collapse under his bulk.

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, Hermione said, "I was sorry to read about your mother." Beatrice Goyle was one of the first witches to be claimed by the plague.

She got another nod at that and more silence.

Finally she said, "Look. I'm certain I wasn't your first choice for a wife, but I hope we can make the best of it. Things don't have to be the way they were in school."

He stared at her some more. She had no idea what he was thinking, or even if he _was_ thinking. He was so still for so long that she jumped when he finally got to his feet.

Immediately he began digging through his pockets, looking for something and she could only watch, confused and a bit wary.

After a thorough search, he pulled out a silver chain, separating it from the bits of parchment and wrappers in his pocket. He walked over and sat next to her on the little sofa, a small silver locket hanging from the silver chain, clasped in his big hand.

"This was my mother's," he said in a rough baritone. "It's the only thing I have left of hers. The Ministry got everything else. I thought maybe you'd like it."

"Oh, Greg," she breathed, surprised and touched at the gesture. "I'd be honored." She picked up her mass of curls and turned away from him. "Would you help me put it on?"

His big fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp, but he finally managed to get it around her neck. She dropped her hair and turned back toward him. He was much closer now.

"Thank you. It's lovely." Time paused as their gazes caught, their breath mingling with each exhale. A moment later they were kissing. It was hard to remember if she kissed him first or if he kissed her, but it was beside the point now. His hands were buried in her curls and hers were clinging to the taught muscles of his very broad shoulders.

Eventually, the dizzying kiss gentled and they pulled away from each other. They were both blushing. He got to his feet first, offering her a hand up.

"I guess the others are waiting," she said, feeling the need to fill the silence.

He simply nodded and led her from the room, his big hand holding hers. Just before they reached the drawing room, he squeezed her fingers and then dropped her hand.

The rest of the group going to Hogwarts was waiting for Greg. They met them in the doorway, saying goodbye to Hermione before leaving. Harry took a moment to give her a hug and tell her he'd see her back at the house later. He also said to send her Patronus if she needed anything.

Rodolphus approached her after they'd gone and led her back into the kissing parlor as she was starting to consider it.

There was much less beating around the bush with Rodolphus. He wasn't a nervous boy. He simply asked her permission to seal their betrothal and when she agreed, he kissed her. Her first thought was that his mustache tickled and her second thought didn't come until he ended the kiss a minute later. That thought was that her studies would have suffered if she'd started kissing boys while she was still in school. After three hot kisses, her brain was mush.

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><p>Hermione wasn't one to put unpleasant things off. If there was work to be done, she liked to face it head on and get it over with. But the chore of kissing Lucius Malfoy seemed like as good an excuse as any to start practicing procrastination.<p>

"Saved the best for last," he said with a smirk as he led her from the room.

Hoping for an eleventh hour reprieve, more like. But she kept the snarky comment to herself and gave him what she hoped was a bland smile.

"Would you care for some tea, Miss Granger?" he asked as he settled next to her on the sofa she and Greg had just recently shared.

"No, thank you. I'd best not dally. I need to find a dress and I have no idea where to begin or what's appropriate."

"I'll be traveling to Diagon Alley this afternoon to acquire dress robes. Perhaps I can be of assistance."

After a moment's consideration, she nodded. "That would be appreciated."

He moved closer and she swallowed as his thigh brushed against hers. His gaze shifted to the place where their bodies touched and then back to her. His lips tilted up with the hint of a smile. "Do I make you nervous, Miss Granger?"

Absolutely, but she wasn't going admit to it outright. And it wasn't just his political views which made her uneasy. Elegantly cut robes could not hide his innate masculinity. Despite his aristocratic air and fine, almost pretty features, he was no ponce. He was overwhelmingly male with broad shoulders, long legs and utter confidence. It was rather intimidating.

Still it was easier to use the more obvious reasons she would be uncomfortable in his presence to excuse her discomfort. "Less than a year ago, you watched as I was tortured in the room across the hall. Our mutual history does not lend itself to ease."

"That was an unfortunate time and I am genuinely sorry for the treatment you experienced." He sounded sincere, but she wasn't buying it.

"Let's not pretend. You still don't approve of me or my heritage. I still don't approve of your actions or attitude. A law won't change that."

"I had hoped we could maintain at least a veneer of courtesy, or didn't your parents teach you manners?" The sneer on his face marred his handsome features.

She refused to be baited into a shouting match or a wizard's duel. Lifting one eyebrow, she said coolly, "I learned to pay respect in the Muggle world and I learned to demand respect in the magical, Mr. Malfoy. I'd be dead otherwise."

He nodded, conceding the truth of her statement. After a moment's consideration he asked, "And so do you intend that we live at odds with each other? We are to be married, despite any personal misgivings."

"I can be civil, if you can; I just wanted to dispel any illusions. I will not confuse your graciousness with affection and you will not confuse mine with gullibility."

He smirked and leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. "You really are a bright girl. A bit too brash and Gryffindor for my tastes, but a worthy opponent nonetheless." Her heart thumped loud enough that he must be able to hear it and a frisson of fear and anticipation skittered though her body.

Then he kissed her, leaning her back against the arm of the sofa as he dominated her mouth with his. He didn't release her until she was breathless and dazed. He leaned down to her ear to whisper, "Just remember, poppet, Slytherins don't play fair."

As he sat back, she followed until their positions were reversed and she was pressing him back into the cushions. It was evident from the hardness pressing into her belly that she wasn't the only one affected by the kiss. Sensuously, instinctively, she moved against him, feeling his body respond to hers. She leaned up to his ear, licked the lobe, then nipped it, and whispered, "Neither do Gryffindors." With that, she popped up from the sofa before he could react.

As she was about to leave the room, she said, "I've got two owls to send and then I'd be happy to accompany you to Diagon Alley. I'll meet you here in, say, twenty minutes?"

Lucius nodded curtly, his jaw clenched. She just smiled and sailed out of the room. Another score for the Gryffindor.

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><p>Next up: More of the devilishly delicious Mr. Malfoy.<p>

Thanks for the continued support of this story! Real life will be busy over the next few weeks between holidays, travels, and moving, so please be patient. I promise there will be more soon. If you can't wait, you can read through Chapter 12 on Granger Enchanted. See my profile for the link. Please and thank you for your reviews!


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer_: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

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><p><strong><em>You may be an ass, but your fashion sense is impeccable.<em>**

**CHAPTER TEN**

Hermione, of course, had no idea where to find an owl or even parchment and ink, and she wouldn't go back and ask Lucius if her life depended on it. Luckily she did manage to find a house-elf to help her. After a quick owl to Ron asking if he'd do the honors at the binding ceremony and another to Molly asking if she'd be willing to help her get ready in the morning, Hermione dropped back into the drawing room, swiping a sandwich and interrupting Severus, Draco and Rodolphus to check that Severus wasn't overdoing it. She made both Draco and Rodolphus promise to watch over him, much to their amusement.

"You're not my mother, girl," the Potions Master snarled with irritation.

"No, but it is my wifely prerogative to fuss." Sparring with Lucius left her feeling quite giddy and more than a little brave. If she could manage the elder Malfoy, the rest of her husbands would be as simple as a _Wingardium Leviosa_. "I don't want you back in the hospital and tomorrow's going to be a long day."

"I'm not one of your moronic friends to be led by the nose, Miss Granger." His scowl was as black as any he'd ever directed at Neville, but it didn't faze her in the slightest.

"I am exceptionally bossy, you will find, and I am willing to hex you if I don't get my way. Ask Mr. Lestrange."

"It's true. She transfigured the Weasley boy into a toad this morning. Although I do believe he had it coming, Miss Granger."

"That and more, but it isn't worth dwelling on. So unless you'd like to spend the afternoon as a bat, Professor, I suggest you do me the simple favor of taking it easy, which is in your best interest anyway."

"You know if you turn me into a ferret, it'll mean war," Draco said, smirking.

"And we've only just declared a truce." She mocked up a big sigh and a fake pout. "In that case, I hope you don't do anything to make me really angry. I'm enjoying the peace." She and the blond boy shared a smile. "Well I must be off; I've another husband to irritate."

As she left the room, she heard Draco remark, "I do believe she is enjoying this too much."

She went back to the parlor, smiling to herself, and found Lucius sipping a Firewhiskey. "Have I driven you to drink already?"

"It is a concatenation of factors, of which you are merely one small part. I've just had a conversation with my former wife."

"Draco told me about her situation. I think it's horrible what the Ministry's done. I hope she will not mind all of us invading her home."

"I'm quite certain she does mind, but she doesn't have a choice."

"We could go elsewhere."

"I'd rather not have to share a room with someone in that hovel Weasley calls a house."

Hermione bristled at his insult to the Weasleys, but took a deep calming breath before responding, "I'll admit the Manor is grander than any of the others, though Longbottom Hall is lovely, but I'm certain we could manage to find an alternative if that would be easier."

"Nonsense. Narcissa will adapt. We all must." He tossed back the remainder of his drink. "Are you ready to go?"

Hermione just nodded.

"If you will allow me to apparate you, we needn't walk all the way beyond the gate. Once we are married, I'll be able to make you an exception to the wards."

"That would be more convenient, thank you."

He held out his arm for her and she took it, closing her eyes against the dizzying sensation. They reappeared in a narrow space between two buildings on the south end of Diagon Alley.

"Aren't we going to Madam Malkins?" she asked.

"Madam Malkin's is fine for school robes, but has nothing appropriate for a binding of this nature. We'll go to Twilfit and Tattings."

She released his arm in preparation to step from the alley onto the street, but he stopped her. "Are you uncomfortable being seen in public with me?"

"Of course not," she said taking his arm again, "I'm just not accustomed to being escorted."

"That is because you've been keeping company with cretins."

"I'll not comment on the kind of company you've been known to keep. I'll take my cretins over that lot any day."

"Touché, Miss Granger." He sounded chastened, but he was still smirking as he led her from the shadows.

Diagon Alley, like all of the other wizarding communities, was much altered since the end of the war. Many of the stores still had not reopened, either because the new Ministry had closed down stores catering to the Dark Arts, or because the proprietors had not survived the war or the plague afterwards. Even still, there always seemed to be wizards and witches on the street as it remained the most concentrated area of commerce in the country.

Since the final battle, Hermione was used to attracting attention when she was in public, but even being out and about with Harry didn't compare to the attention she and Lucius attracted on their short walk to the store's entrance.

Once inside the quiet store, Hermione tried to forget the odd stares and long looks, but there was a small group gathered on the street, looking through the windows.

The number of gowns available for the binding was staggering and what complicated matters was that witches did not only wear white. There were gowns of every conceivable color and a few Hermione had never seen before. But, in her case, Lucius insisted she wear white as it would symbolize her purity and innocence. It did help narrow things down a bit and as she had always expected to wear white to her wedding, she didn't argue.

As an associate showed her the selection, Lucius chose the dress robes for her other husbands. She'd managed to whittle the choices down to three by the time he'd finished.

"Well let's see them on you."

"Isn't it bad luck to see the bride in her gown before the ceremony?"

"Where did that ridiculous superstition come from?"

"Ah, I guess it is just a Muggle thing. The groom isn't supposed to see the gown and he isn't supposed to see her on the day of the wedding until she arrives for the service."

"What a silly custom. We have no need for such things. Besides, we'll be married tomorrow, good luck or no."

"That is true. Well I suppose I'll just try these on."

The attendant helped her into each of the gowns and she could see that Lucius appreciated her figure in the first dress and that he didn't especially care for the second. But it was clear that the third dress was the winner.

It was a strapless charmeuse gown with ruching on the bodice and a silver pendant adorning the banded waist made from intertwined runes in a Celtic style. The gathered skirt flowed freely to the ground, trailing just a small train behind.

"Lovely," he said, watching her in the mirror.

"I quite like this one. Do you think it appropriate?"

"I think it's perfect. You must wear your hair down with flowers in it, orange blossoms if I can find them."

"No veil?"

"No, that's another Muggle tradition. I see no reason to hide your beauty beneath a veil."

"If you keep paying me compliments, Mr. Malfoy, I might have to visit St. Mungo's. I'm certainly going insane."

"There's little use denying it, you're a beautiful girl, no matter any other less appealing qualities..."

"See you had to ruin it," she interjected.

"…like your sharp tongue," he finished with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror. "What shoes do you think?"

"No shoes, poppet. Two hundred years ago, none of us would have worn any clothing during this rite, to allow us to be at one with magics of the earth, sky and heavens. Now, we go barefoot. It's a bit less scandalous."

"Dear heavens."

"Two hundred years before that, the consummation would have occurred as part of the ceremony, in front of the witnesses." He had come up behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body on her bare shoulders.

Hermione spun, covering her gaping mouth with her hand. She could feel the blood in her cheeks and he was smirking down at her. After she finally got her voice working, she managed to say, "Just imagine how long the ceremony would have taken with ten husbands."

He threw back his head and laughed at that, a deep, rich sound that surprised her. What surprised her more was when he kissed her after. It was a spontaneous gesture that took her breath away and left her feeling like she'd been hit with the Jelly-Legs Jinx.

Her cheeks were still blazing and he was still smirking when he finally pulled away to find the associate who had discreetly left to give them privacy.

"We will take this one, and we will need appropriate slippers for the reception. Also keep Miss Granger's measurements on hand. She will need additional formalwear and day robes, and maternity wear before too long."

At the counter they argued over who would pay, but Hermione finally won. "This gown is the last thing I will purchase as a single witch. I'm buying it with money that my parent's would have given me, if they could be here." She paused to take a deep breath and gather her emotions. "Please let them contribute to this day, even if they do so unwittingly."

"Of course. My apologies for pressing the matter."

"Don't worry about it." She turned, blotting the wetness from the corner of her eye discreetly.

Lucius carried the bags, holding the door for her to exit onto the street. The little crowd had grown while they were shopping and Hermione found herself separated from her escort.

An old, wizened witch grasped her arm. "Do you need any help, dearie?" she asked, taking her hand and leading her away farther from Lucius.

"No, thank you, madam. I'm quite well."

"You seem like such a sweet girl. I don't like to see you with the likes of Lucius Malfoy."

"Thank you, but I assure you I am quite safe." She looked back and was unable to see him for the wizards standing in the way.

"I wouldn't be so sure. He has a nasty reputation."

"I am quite familiar with his reputation and his character. I was present during the final battle when he stood against Voldemort in the end. Now if you will please excuse me, I must find him." Hermione pulled her arm from the crone's grip and pushed her way through the bodies to find Lucius.

He was standing in the midst of the crowd, being heckled by some, jostled by others. One witch spat at his feet. Hermione immediately pushed forward, wand drawn. "Get back. All of you. You should be ashamed of yourselves, accosting a man on the street like this."

"He should be rottin' in Azkaban." There was a chorus of agreements.

"He was cleared of all charges," she responded, her wand steady.

"He bought himself out of all charges, more like."

"I don't recognize a single one of you as taking up arms in the final battle against Voldemort. You did less than Mr. Malfoy and his family did to bring about that maniac's demise. Harry Potter even testified personally on his behalf during his trial. Do you honestly doubt Harry Potter's character?"

The question was met with a ripple of murmurs through the crowd. Harry's popularity was immense since the battle. No one would dare speak against him. Even Rita Skeeter only had positive things to print about him nowadays. He probably could become Minister if he had the inclination. In Hermione's opinion, it was a good thing Harry had no interest in it. The public would soon find their hero wasn't exactly infallible.

Finally one wizard spoke up. "We meant no harm, miss. It looked like you two were arguing and we didn't want you hurt."

"While I appreciate the intention, you misunderstood the situation. We had a disagreement as to who would pay for my new dress robes. He wanted to pay, but I insisted that he allow me to pay for it myself. I assure you Mr. Malfoy means me no harm. We're to be bound tomorrow."

That caused another wave of whispers through the group.

"Now please stand aside and let us pass."

The crowd began to back up, those on the fringes wandering off, probably to spread the gossip that the Golden Girl, as she'd been dubbed in the papers, was going to be bound to the disgraced Malfoy.

Hermione took Lucius' arm, protecting him from the lingering wizards more than anything else. His muscles were tense beneath her fingers as they made their way through the crowd. She nodded to those who met her eye, trying to remember that while public opinion mattered little to her, it was important for Kingsley. Though she didn't look up, she could imagine the haughty expression on Lucius' face.

When they got to the relative privacy of the alley, Hermione let out a shaky breath, her hands starting to tremble.

Lucius wrapped an arm around her waist. "Hold on, poppet," he said before apparating them to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

><p>In a blink, they were back in the parlor and out of any danger, but the girl seemed to be shaking even harder now. Calling for Tutti, Lucius set aside the bags and sat on the sofa, scooping the girl onto his lap.<p>

"Master called," the house-elf squeaked, blinking into the room silently.

"Tea and a mild calming draught."

The elf blinked out again and within a minute a tea service and little green bottle popped onto the sofa table.

Lucius held the girl for a moment, wondering what had happened. She'd been impressive in front of that crowd, a fearless lioness, ready to take them all on. And she'd defended him…him of all people.

But now she was falling apart.

"Miss Granger," he said, pushing her curls back over her shoulder. Her arms squeezed him tighter, but it was doubtful she knew what she was doing or just who she was clinging to.

Since he couldn't get her to let go, he poured her a cup of tea one-handed, adding extra sugar and a drop of the calming draught. He used his wand to cool the tea, just enough so she wouldn't burn herself and then brought the cup to her lips. "Drink, poppet."

She drank reflexively as he tipped the cup back. After a few sips, the trembling lessened and she relaxed against him.

It was rather pleasant, feeling a witch in his arms again. Narcissa hadn't let him hold her, hadn't let him touch her, for a long time. Their relationship had been strained before the Dark Lord's second ascension and all that occurred after only made it worse.

Eventually, the girl lifted her head from where it rested on his shoulder. Her cheeks were pink, a sure improvement over her pallor a few minutes earlier.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy." She stiffened and pulled away. Reluctantly, he let her go. He leaned over to the table and selected a few sandwiches and biscuits the elves had sent along with the tea.

"Eat. I don't think you got enough lunch."

She looked at the plate he was holding out to her and then looked at him curiously. "Thanks."

"Yes, well, we can't have you going into fits at the ceremony."

He was disappointed when there was no response to this jibe. It seemed she'd typically have a smart retort.

After a long stretch of silence, he finally said, "Thank you." She just looked at him blankly for a moment. Though these weren't words he'd usually utter, they didn't require that dumbfounded expression. He elaborated. "For intervening on my behalf. I'm not permitted to draw my wand first."

"I know," she said, smiling slightly. "Like it or not, you're my family now."

"And you are mine."

She set her teacup aside. "Thank you for the tea. I was hungrier than I thought, but I'd best be going. I've packing to do and a big day tomorrow."

"Very well. Would you like to use the floo?"

"No, I think I'll apparate. The walk will do me good."

"You're certain you're up for it?"

"I'll be fine. Thanks."

Despite her protests, he walked her to the gates and for reasons he couldn't explain to himself, he kissed her hand before she disapparated.

As he walked back to the manor, he considered her words. _Like it or not, you're my family now_. That was the truth. But if he considered how he felt now compared to how he'd felt this morning, he was definitely leaning more towards the "like it" portion of that equation.

In the entrance hall, he was distracted from his intention to join his son and the others in planning by the sight of his former wife, standing on the staircase.

"I find it reprehensible that you are courting that girl. Forget her lack of breeding and manners. She is to be your son's wife. She will bear your son's children, your grandchildren. Will your children be aunts and uncles to his, or will they be siblings?"

"What they will be, madam, is none of your concern."

"Of course it's my concern. Draco's happiness is my concern."

"He is an adult wizard. His happiness is his own concern, and perhaps that of his wife. I do hope you will refrain from behaving like the cliché mother-in-law. I had also hoped you would restrain yourself from acting like a jealous ex-wife, but it appears my hopes are for naught."

"This is all so convenient for you, isn't it? The Ministry says jump and you say how high. Not one argument. It's like the Dark Lord all over again. You're a pathetic excuse for a wizard, Lucius Malfoy. Only happy if you're serving a master. No better than a house-elf."

"That is enough, witch. I am allowing you to remain on the property for Draco's sake, but you are trying my patience. You will remove yourself and your belongings to the dower house tonight and you will keep your distance from me if you do not want to be turned out into the street."

The witch glared at him coldly and then turned to ascend the stairs, as regally as any queen.

Lucius went back to the parlor. He needed another Firewhiskey.

* * *

><p><strong>Up next: A wedding...times ten.<strong>

**Thanks for the continued support and the fabulous comments. I appreciate it more than you know!**


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:_ The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. Blah, blah, blah, nobody is reading this. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

* * *

><p><strong><em>I now pronounce you husband and husband and husband and...<em>**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Hermione woke early Sunday morning though she'd been up late, packing her things into her beaded bag. Harry had gotten in late and was leaving early to manage the last minute details at Hogwarts. He'd had to assure her that everything was under control, but word from Kingsley had been that they would be expecting a large crowd. A dozen Aurors would be on hand for security and the service itself would be held within a circle of protection, which would shield them from all but the Unforgivables.

She had been collecting her books from the library yesterday when the owl arrived with her invitation. It was funny to receive an invitation to her own binding, but one had gone out to all citizens.

_**...**_

_**The Minister for Magic,**_

_**Kingsley Ilori Shacklebolt, Order of Merlin Third Class**_

_**together with**_

_**Arthur Hugo Weasley, Order of Merlin Third Class**_

_**Lucius Abraxas Malfoy**_

_**Rodolphus Alexander Lestrange**_

_**Severus Tobias Snape, Order of Merlin First Class**_

_**Cormac Avery McLaggen**_

_**Gregory Ignatius Goyle**_

_**Draco Lucius Malfoy**_

_**Neville Oriel Longbottom, Order of Merlin Second Class**_

_**and**_

_**Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin First Class**_

_**invite you to witness their binding to**_

_**Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin Second Class**_

_**on Sunday, the twenty-first of March**_

_**nineteen hundred and ninety-nine**_

_**at twelve o'clock in the afternoon**_

_**Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**...**_

Even she was impressed with the men she was set to marry when she saw them on paper. Five of them had Orders of Merlin. One of them was the Minister and one of them was the Savior of the Wizarding World. She could have done worse. It was a far cry from her initial reaction to the names.

She could only imagine how it would have been if she'd been out on the street when these were delivered. Evidently Kingsley started to receive RSVPs not long after and all indications were that the majority of the wizarding world, or at least what was left of it was going to show up at their binding.

Arthur had owled with an itinerary for the day, Molly had owled to express her happiness at helping and Ron had agreed to stand up with her during the ceremony and promised to be on his best behavior.

Now it was early Sunday morning and she needed to shower, eat something, and get pretty. Harry had left her a couple of hard boiled eggs, not trusting her to make her own breakfast, before he left for Hogwarts.

Not long after she made it to the kitchen, there was a tapping at the window. The large eagle owl was carrying a hat box and managed to land on the table with grace despite his unwieldy package.

She gave it a piece of bacon (also precooked by Harry) and sent it on its way as she opened the box. The first thing that struck her was the smell – sweet, like ripe fruit. Inside were dozens of white blossoms. There was also a scroll.

_**My dear Miss Granger,**_

_**Orange blossoms represent innocence and fertility **_

_**and are the perfect ornament for a bride such as you. **_

_**Luckily the trees bloom in late winter and we grow**_

_**several in our conservatory. A good omen, I think.**_

_**Yours, Lucius Malfoy**_

It was a lovely gesture. She was softening toward the man. She knew it and knew it wasn't smart. But he could be quite charming when he put his mind to it.

Her thoughts on the enigma that was Lucius Malfoy had to be set aside for later. Now she had to get ready.

Molly arrived just as she was getting out of the shower and immediately began fussing over her. With her help, Hermione's hair flowed in long, soft waves down her back and she wore just a hint of make-up. With the blossoms arranged in a wreath, they made her look like some kind of wood nymph and she smelled like candy.

Or that's what Ron said when he got there.

"You're beautiful, Mione. I hope those wizards know how lucky they are." He was wearing new dress robes and looked rather handsome himself. His hug was almost bone crushing in its intensity.

"Thank you for doing this," she whispered into his shoulder, trying to keep hold of her emotions.

"I love you, Mione. I'd do anything for you. Even give you away," his voice was a bit hoarse as the moment affected him as well. But then he smiled. "I might get mad about it first, but I always come around."

"You do, Ron, and I love you for it even when I want to hex you."

The three of them apparated at quarter to noon to prearranged coordinates, as Arthur's itinerary instructed. They ended up inside a white tent furnished like a lounge, with several sofas and low tables. There was a tea service and sandwiches, which Molly insisted Hermione eat.

"There can't be a witch or wizard in all of Britain that isn't out there," Molly said after popping her head outside to see what was happening. "You'd think with the number of wizards out there that you were doing this binding the old-fashioned way. Without clothes."

"Please don't even joke about that, Molly. I'm going to have a nervous breakdown as it is."

"You're going to be just fine. As long as you finish that sandwich so you don't pass out from hunger. Ronald, leave something for the bride and for Merlin's sake stop scratching yourself."

The final minutes before the ceremony seemed to drag, but finally Molly was leaving the tent, kissing Hermione on the forehead and reminding her to breathe, checking that she had her wand in the discreet little wand pocket of the dress. "You're such a beautiful bride, Hermione. If you get nervous, remember that we Weasleys all love you."

Hermione hugged the older woman, her eyes tearing up. "Thank you for everything. I love you too."

"No more tears now. It's time and you don't want the public to think you're unhappy."

Hermione nodded and allowed Molly to banish any trace of tears and then the woman was gone. Then it was time for her to go too, and she was so grateful that she had Ron beside her as they stepped from the tent.

It was a bit overwhelming at first and she struggled to keep a serene smile on her face. She just hoped it didn't look like a grimace.

There were a few hundred people, all staring at her, some standing to get a better look. Aurors stood sentinel in bright red robes. A photographer from the newspaper was snapping pictures as Ron walked her up an aisle between the seats toward a small hill where her husbands waited.

The boys had chosen a perfect spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest and the lake. It was a clear and sunny, perfect early spring day. It would have been too cool to be running about barefoot if not for warming charms, but it was comfortable enough for those wearing normal robes.

The grassy aisle she walked upon was cordoned off from the guests and strewn with flowers. The only music was the wind in the trees, the lapping lake and the birdsong. Unlike Muggle brides, Hermione didn't carry flowers with her. She came to her husbands empty-handed except for her wand as was the tradition – she brought herself and her magic and there was nothing more they could need.

As they got closer she could see that all of her husbands looked handsome in their robes and they were all watching her closely. She offered them a smile, making a point to look at each of them. Her smile grew misty when she saw Harry looking a bit misty himself.

Finally she stepped into the protective circle and was surrounded by her wizards. Ron remained with her, guiding her to a point at the center of the circle just in front of the officiant. Her almost-husbands were arranged in order by age in a semicircle behind her.

The officiant she recognized as Tiberius Ogden, a member of the Wizengamot and supporter of the Light. He was a hundred if he was a day, his white hair a cloud on his head, his stature so slight that it looked like a strong gust would blow him away. But when he spoke, it was weighted with wisdom and amplified by a Sonorus charm cast over the entire circle for the benefit of the guests.

"Today we gather to witness a beginning. For this witch and these wizards, it is the beginning of a personal journey. For our nation it is the beginning of a new era. Our society is perched on the fine edge of oblivion. We stand on ground scarred by death and destruction. Though none present was unaffected, few have sacrificed and suffered more than these wizards and this witch in the war that divided us. And yet there is no more room for division. Old loyalties are irrelevant, for if we do not unite, there will be no future.

"On this first day of spring, we see the end of a long winter. I refer not only to a war that spilled too much magical blood, but also an age of prejudice and intolerance. The time for such ideals is ended, for if our society is to have a future, it will come from cooperation and the mingling of old lines with new. It is fitting that this day, the first day of spring, represents renewal and rebirth, fertility and new beginnings.

"And so we gather to witness the binding of this witch to these wizards in the first of many such unions. Now we call upon the magic of all life to bless them." He lifted his wand, a stick as gnarled as the old man's fingers.

"We ask all present to bless this union."

At that, the assembly all lifted their wands and incanted, "_Benedicte Unio_." Golden light spilled from hundreds of wands, arching over the circle, forming a brilliant dome.

Mr. Ogden went on, "We ask the creatures of the air, the sea and the forest to bless this union. We ask the magics of the earth, the sky, and the heavens to bless this union. We ask the spirits on this earthly plane and in the next to bless this union. We ask the ancients, the gods and goddesses to bless this union." With each blessing, he waved his wand and added light to the web enclosing them.

"May they be granted abundance, fertility, happiness and harmony."

He turned to her. "Hermione Jean Granger, you come to these wizards, a pure soul, untouched by man."

"I do," she answered as instructed, her voice ringing out over the grounds thanks to the amplification charm. Her declaration was met by a ripple of murmurs in the assembly.

"May your gift amplify these blessings," he said, waving his wand again and the web of magic changed from a bright gold to a pure white, eliciting some awe from the guests.

"Who gives this bride in marriage and whose blessings accompany her?"

"I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, on behalf of the Granger family and the Weasley family, give Hermione Jean Granger in marriage with our blessings." Ron smiled, kissed her forehead and then lifted his wand, casting a spell that caused the web of magic to flare even brighter white and then shatter into countless pieces and rain down upon Hermione and her husbands. The sensation was a bit like being wrapped in warm, happy memories, like being engulfed in a _Patronus_.

At that, Ron withdrew from the circle and took a seat with the rest of his family.

Mr. Ogden moved onto the next part of the ceremony, having them exchange traditional vows and then he got to the binding. He said, "A binding is made firm by the sincere vows of its participants. The witch and wizard, or wizards in this case, must offer to contribute the best parts of themselves to the union and will ask for the qualities they desire in their partner in return." Arthur had told her about this part of the ceremony. For each husband she had to pledge something of herself and ask him to give something in return. In theory, they could refuse to give the vow. It wouldn't keep them from being lawfully married, but it would weaken the bond between them.

"Hermione Jane Granger, if you are so inclined to bind yourself to these men, go to each of them now and make your vow."

She turned and started with Arthur on her right. Swallowing her nerves, she smiled at him and said, "Arthur Hugo Weasley, to you I offer my honor." She waved her wand and a light blue tether of magic linked her left wrist to his. "And I seek your wisdom." He waved his wand and a black band appeared as well.

"In return I offer my protection," Arthur said, an amber tie materializing, "and I seek your patience." She added another blue.

Still connected to Arthur, she turned to Lucius. "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, to you I offer my fertility and I seek your respect." Green and blue ties bound them.

He replied, "In return I offer my acceptance and I seek your intelligence." She was a bit surprised, and pleased, by his offering as amber and white ties joined them.

"Kingsley Ilori Shacklebolt, to you I offer my idealism" – silver streaked from her wand as they shared a smile – "and I seek your balance." A green band was added.

In his deep voice he said, "In return I offer my power and I seek your inspiration." They were bound by purple and silver.

She turned to Rodolphus, the bonds to the first three remaining strong, but stretching to accommodate her movement. "Rodolphus Alexander Lestrange, to you I offer redemption." That caused gasps in the crowd and a white tie to join them. Even more surprised was Rodolphus himself and for a moment it looked like he would protest her gift. "And I seek your reformation," she finished. A black tie was added. This one was a physical ribbon that he pulled from his pocket as he no longer had a wand. It had been charmed to automatically change to the correct color, stretch as needed and tie automatically.

Once he'd gotten the black tie in place, he pulled out a dark blue, fixing it as he said, "In return I offer my devotion and I seek your forgiveness." The last was said almost as if a question. She gave him a small smile and added another white tie.

"Severus Tobias Snape, to you I offer admiration and I seek your courage." Dark pink and red ties linked them.

His voice was grave as he responded, "In return I offer my guidance and I seek your warmth." Amber and pink ties were added.

She turned to Cormac. It was funny, even with all the former Death Eaters in the group, she had the hardest time coming up with her vows to him. "Cormac Avery McLaggen, to you I offer grounding and I seek your sincerity."

He smiled and in his most arrogant of arrogant tones, he said, "In return I offer my ambition and I seek your passion." Of course he did, she held back her grimace and fought the impulse to deny his request as she added a red tether to the purple, blue and green binding them.

She moved on, happily. To Greg she said, "Gregory Ignatius Goyle, to you I offer encouragement and I seek your tranquility.

Even with the Sonorus his voice was soft as he answered, "In return I offer my loyalty and I seek your generosity." They were joined by orange, light blue, dark blue and pink ties.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, to you I offer joy" – she thought of their laughter in the rose garden as a pink ribbon of magic bound them – "and I seek your honesty."

"In return I offer my confidence and I seek your optimism." And they were bound in green and white.

She smiled up at Neville, who looked delicious in his dress robes. "Neville Oriel Longbottom, to you I offer comfort and I seek your humility." Dark blue and white ribbons joined the rest on her wrist.

"In return I offer my affection and I seek your kindness." Pink and orange ribbons twined between them.

And finally she faced Harry. Her Harry, who had rescued her from a troll when he was eleven and saved her life dozens of times since, who made her breakfast in the mornings so she wouldn't be forced to eat rubbery, burnt eggs. He was going to be hers now, officially. "Harry James Potter, to you I offer love and peace" – a red and white striped ribbon bound her wrist to his – "and I seek your strength." A pure red ribbon appeared.

He was beaming at her and she wanted very badly to kiss him. He bound them in red and pink, "In return I offer my love and I seek your happiness."

Perhaps it was an after effect of the blessing, but she was happy. She stepped back into the center of the semicircle, the ribbons of magic, a kaleidoscope of colors binding her to each of these men, shifting with her. The ties were not cumbersome or restrictive as might be expected considering there were forty of them, but they did make her feel connected.

Mr. Ogden stepped up to her side, just outside the rainbow of ties. For a moment she'd forgotten she was not alone with her husbands. The elder held his wand above her wrist and said, "By the gods, the spirits, the universe, the beasts, and these witnesses gathered here, I bind you." The magical ribbons grew bright and then dissolved in a flash of colors too beautiful to describe. When the moment passed, the ties were gone, but in their place was a band on her left ring finger. It was a delicate Celtic knotwork ring that looked like hearts interwoven, ten in all, studded with tiny jewels in all of her binding colors. It was perfect.

"May the rings you now wear be imbued with the qualities you have vowed to share with each other. May they be a reminder that jealousy, anger, selfishness, disloyalty, weakness, intolerance and hatred have no part of your vows and should have no place in your lives. Instead may your lives together have honor, wisdom…" he went on to list all of the qualities they'd vowed, ending with "…love, peace and happiness." In this moment, she thought that it might even be possible.

"Go forth from this place and be fruitful," he pronounced, "may the magic of all life make it so." The older man indicated for them to turn around and face the guests, the men parting to allow her to join their line as they turned. She looked over the guests, mostly wizards of course, a large group, but small when she considered it was a large percentage of the remaining population. Behind them, the specter of Hogwarts' ruined castle loomed, though there was evidence that rebuilding had begun.

Rebuilding. That's what this day was all about. Behind them, Mr. Ogden announced to the cheering crowd, "It is my pleasure to present the Granger Family. Wizards, you may seal your binding with a kiss."

Hermione blushed as she walked toward Arthur. It would have been awkward to share a public sign of affection with one man in front of such a large group, but to do so with all ten of her husbands – they truly were her husbands now – was intimidating.

Arthur just smiled in his shy way and called her Mrs. Weasley before kissing her forehead and then brushing her lips with the barest of kisses. Lucius called her Mrs. Malfoy before he kissed her. His kiss was chaste but lingered longer. Kingsley and each of the rest of the wizards claimed her as their wife, calling her by their own surname before kissing her.

The kisses were as different as the men who bestowed them. All of them kept the kisses short and sweet except for Cormac, who got some whistles and laughter from the guests. And Harry, who dipped her as he proclaimed her Mrs. Potter and then kissed her smiling lips. That move was greeted with cheers from the crowd and judging by the smug smile on the photographer's face, would be running in the Daily Prophet tomorrow.

As she had been busy kissing, Hogwarts' elves had been distributing champagne glasses to everyone but Hermione. Once Harry had finished making her blush, he handed her over to Kingsley who stepped forward, lifting his own glass.

"I'd like to thank all of you for witnessing our binding and contributing to blessing our union. While these have been dark and difficult days, it is times like this that I have the most hope for our future. To see us all gathering in support of a new era, I am confident that despite the challenges that still lie ahead, we will flourish.

"I'd also like to propose a toast to the beautiful bride. We are ten very lucky wizards and we will endeavor to prove we are worthy of such an incredible witch." Hermione reddened as there was a cheer from the crowd and behind her, her other husbands echoed the sentiment before drinking their champagne. Kingsley drank too, and then offered her a drink from his glass. She giggled as the bubbles tickled her nose.

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><p>AN: Things will heat up next chapter as we consummate this thing... Harry is *ahem* _up _first. Due to the rules on this site, the intimate scenes will be edited for content, but without disrupting the story. There will still be sex, it will just be less explicit. If you want all of the gory details, you will want to follow the link to the story at Granger Enchanted which you can find in my profile. Also there is a link to my photobucket album for this story if you'd like to see the inspiration for the wedding dress and ring.

Thank you for your patience with this chapter and for the lovely reviews/favorites/encouragements/friendly reminders/gentle death threats/etc. I will endeavor not to make you wait too long for the next installment.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: The_ characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

**Please Note**: This chapter has been edited for content. It still earns its M rating, but for the M+ or NC-17 version, please follow the link in my profile to Granger Enchanted.

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><p><strong>Is it hot in here, or is it just me?<strong>

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Once the glasses were drained, Arthur took her from Kingsley and began to escort her toward the tent she'd used earlier. They stopped frequently to receive congratulations from those they passed, starting with Ron, Molly and the rest of the Weasleys. Her other husbands followed and as they passed through the guests, grains of wheat were tossed at them to increase fertility. Some of the witches present wanted to touch her hand or her hair or her gown, because doing so was considered good luck for their unions. Others were interested in shaking hands with the Minister and Harry. Even Severus and Neville were popular figures.

When they were finally in the privacy of the tent, Hermione collapsed onto one of the chaises with little grace. It was draining to smile and glad-hand such a large group and she'd only contacted a fraction of them. Her other husbands all trickled in, followed by Mr. Ogden who needed them to all sign the binding licenses. Naturally she signed ten times, while each of her husbands only had to sign once. It seemed like a presage of the nature of her marriage – most of the time it would be ten times the work for her.

The elder wizard left them alone when the formalities were finished and Hermione found herself the center of attention again. This time the audience was smaller, but the interest more intense and carnal. She found an answering desire welling up in her, but it wasn't until she was nuzzling Neville's neck, the husband closest to her, that she realized just how desperate she was feeling.

It would have been more embarrassing if Neville hadn't been responding enthusiastically, his hand caressing the curve of her hip through the thin fabric of her gown. Or if her other husbands weren't watching with a mixture of heat and jealousy.

"What's happening to me? Was the champagne spiked?" she asked as she abruptly pulled away from Neville.

"It's a side-effect of the binding," Lucius said, fidgeting uncharacteristically. "There's a reason the consummation used to happen during the service. Under normal circumstances, the call is difficult to resist for long. With ten bindings, the impulse appears to be even stronger, multiplied perhaps."

Draco, who had been standing behind Hermione, stepped close enough that his robes brushed her bare shoulders. His hand traced a warm path from her shoulder down her arm and back again. He asked, "Is there anything we can do to ease it until the consummation occurs." He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth, his lips tracing each of her fingers.

She had the fleeting thought that her first real sexual experience was going to occur right here, right now, but Severus spoke up.

"A repulsion potion would work, but it would sow discord as well and I don't think that is the most ideal way to start a marriage. Calming Draught should help to an extent." Severus focused his dark eyes on her, "But if you have your heart set on having Mr. Potter first, I'd recommend you get on with it quickly, or you might find yourself in a situation with someone else and pushed to satiate this hunger." His hand fisted and then released – the only outward sign of his own discomfort.

"I suggest we retire to the Manor," Lucius said. "Our guests will be arriving before long and we will need to deal with this problem if we are to behave with any sense of decorum."

It was hard for Hermione to concentrate on Lucius' words since Draco's lips were steadily making their way up her arm and Neville's hand had slid from her hip to lightly caress her breast through the soft fabric of her dress.

"Agreed," Arthur said, his disquiet evident in the way he tugged at the collar of his robes. There were nods of agreement, but none of the men made any move to leave, their stares fixed on her.

Her eyes slipped closed as a third set of hands, she wasn't certain whose, began to undo the tiny buttons on the back of her dress. The bodice fell loose, eliciting a chorus of masculine groans. She echoed the noise only moments later when Draco's blond head moved to kiss her chest, while Neville's fingers teased. Other lips found the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck and some small part of her thought she should perhaps protest what was happening, but it all felt so good, so right.

She opened her eyes and saw Severus' gaze darken as her hand moved to rub against Neville's trousers. The Potion Master's normally silky tones were strained when he barked, "For Merlin's sake, Potter, get her out of here already so the rest of us can think clearly."

"Gladly," Harry said as he scooped her up into his arms, pulling her away from three husbands – Draco, Neville and Cormac – despite their protests.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her best friend's neck, pressing into his chest and kissed him.

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><p>When she withdrew to get a breath of air, she saw that somehow Harry managed to apparate them despite the distraction. They were standing in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. He set her on her feet, his lips finding hers again, while his fingers worked the final buttons, allowing the white dress to puddle on the floor.<p>

The wreath of flowers was pulled from her hair and tossed aside, her hair tumbling loose. Harry's fingers immediately tangled in her curls as he tilted her head back to deepen their kiss. She pressed against him, her naked skin tingling where it was crushed against his fine, silk robes.

His hands grazed down her back and over her silky white knickers, cupping her round cheeks before he slid the final slip of fabric from her body.

"You're breathtaking," he murmured as he took a step back to look at her. Before she could give into the urge to hide herself, Harry picked her up again, this time taking three steps toward his bed before dropping her on the mattress.

She sat up, reaching for him, but he paused to shed his own robes before crawling onto the bed and pressing his body against hers. The quick glimpse of his naked form enflamed her further and it seemed her hands were everywhere at once as they resumed their kiss. She stroked his face, his muscular back, and she ran her fingers through his dark, perpetually tousled hair.

As he touched her in return, she groaned into his mouth and writhed under him. She was on fire.

"Merlin, Hermione, I had planned to take this slow. Make your first time more romantic."

"Bugger slow. We can do slow some other time." She arched into him, seeking contact which she instinctively knew would quench this flame.

"Are you certain?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Please, Harry. I want you. Now."

"I'm sorry, love, this will probably hurt." But the frenzy she felt was overriding any pain.

Making love with Harry was an addictive feeling, and if it was always like this, she'd probably never get out of bed again. No wonder the girls in her dorm had been such slags.

He was panting as he collapsed against her afterwards. Wrapping her arms around his sweat-slicked body, she relished his weight pressing her into the mattress, anchoring her to reality after such an experience.

When his breathing slowed, he lifted his face from where it was buried in her hair and smiled down at her before peppering her face with little kisses. She was almost sad when he rolled over to his side. The burning urge she'd felt before had receded for the moment, but she still craved the feel of him against her.

Harry pulled her against him as their bodies cooled and murmured, "I love you, Mione."

She pressed a kiss to his breastbone. "I love you too."

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><p>She would have been content to lie in bed with Harry all day, but they had a party to get to. By now, guests would be arriving and she ought to be there to welcome them and to avoid speculation as to where she was and what, or who, she was doing.<p>

After a quick shower, which they took in separate bathrooms to prevent them from falling back into bed right away, they redressed. Hermione had no hope for restoring her hair to the tame curls that Molly had managed, but it wasn't a complete bush and the wreath of flowers, refreshed with a wave of her wand, helped keep it from her face.

They flooed back to the manor, emerging in the detested drawing room in order to avoid arriving guests. Rodolphus was sitting on one of the sofas, a half-finished glass of champagne in his hand. He rose when she stepped into the room.

"Aren't you coming to the party," she asked him as Harry magically cleaned the soot from her dress and his robes.

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. "I think everyone will be happier if I stay away. Few are as kind as you."

She frowned, but then nodded. It would be too tempting for a guest to strike out against him if he were in the ballroom with the rest of the party. "I suppose you're right, but will you be all right here on your own?" He would be even more vulnerable if a vengeful guest came across him alone.

"I will be fine, witch, but you can always put up one of your wards if you're worried."

She smiled in response to his gentle teasing about her wards. "Perhaps I will come keep you company when the party becomes tedious."

"My experience with these sorts of events is that they cannot help but be tedious from start to finish. Nevertheless, you are most welcome to join me whenever you wish."

"Perhaps you are the luckiest of us all that you may hide yourself away the entire time."

He merely smiled and took another sip of champagne. She didn't realize she was standing so close to the ex-Death Eater until she felt Harry's hand on her elbow drawing her away. The heat that had receded when she and Harry had fulfilled their marriage contract was growing again.

"Come on, Mione. We need to get you some of that Calming Draught, or you'll never make it to the party."

As if a rubber band connected her to Rodolphus, it became harder to move the farther she was from him. "That's okay, Harry," she said, resisting his tug on her arm, "I think I'll just stay here. It would be rude to leave Mr. Lestrange all alone."

"Go find Snape, Mr. Potter," Rodolphus said. "He has the potion she needs. I don't believe you'll be able to tear her away this time since you've already satisfied the binding magic."

When Harry's hand slipped away from hers, she gravitated to the other man, crossing the distance without any conscious effort. She pressed her body against his when she reached him, aware but uncaring that such behavior was uncommonly brazen. Her fingers fumbled with the clasps holding his robe together and then the buttons on the dress shirt beneath. Finally she found his olive-toned skin. He was lean, his torso dusted with a smattering of dark hair.

The chest rumbled beneath her fingertips. "Go, Potter, or we'll end up consummating our bond right here on the sofa."

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><p>Her hands were warm against Rodolphus' skin, exploring the planes and ridges, lingering on the scars that marred his flesh. Though his body, devoid of magic, was not affected by the binding as the others were, he was still a man. A man who had not experienced a tender touch since the very first days of his marriage to Bella.<p>

It would take little encouragement on her part for him to ignore the voice of his conscience, a voice that he'd long ago learned to disregard altogether, and take her right here, right now. But he was actually growing to respect this witch, and she deserved better. When the little witch moved lower to toy with the fastening of his trousers, he captured her hands, bringing them up to his mouth to press light kisses on each palm. Then he wrapped her arms around his neck and drew her against him, covering her mouth with his.

This was not the same tentative response he'd received to his betrothal kiss the day before, but an ardent reaction. She yielded no ground as the kiss escalated, tongues tangling, teeth teasing, lips lingering. Her body undulated against his as her hands fisted in his hair and he couldn't help but clutch her tighter.

She pushed against his shoulders, causing him to drop down onto the sofa and without breaking the kiss she followed, hiking up her long skirt to climb onto his lap.

It was so very tempting to lose himself in her and if the drawing room door didn't open at that moment, he might have succumbed.

He pulled away from the kiss to see Potter and Snape glowering at him. The witch either didn't realize they were there, or didn't care as she latched onto his neck, moving against him provocatively. Gently he pushed her away. "Easy, witch. Severus has something for you to drink."

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes hooded and with each panting breath, her bosom threatened to spill over the top of her bodice. She was the embodiment of wantonness and a man would have to be a saint not to be affected by her. So naturally, Snape seemed completely impervious.

Severus handed him the glass of champagne he'd been drinking from earlier, a measure of the potion mixed with the last few swallows.

Rolph held the glass to the girl's lips, pulling it away when she tried to take it from him.

"Let me, witch. A bride shouldn't have to feed herself on her wedding day, especially not when she has ten husbands to provide for her." It was an old wizarding custom, perhaps one she wasn't familiar with, or perhaps she just thought it was silly. Either way, she allowed him to put the glass to her mouth and she tipped her head back so he could slowly pour it in.

Once she'd swallowed, it only took a moment for her hands, which had been pushing his robes from his shoulders, to still and her hips to stop their erotic dance. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Lestrange," she said, her eyes widening as clarity returned.

"I was hardly complaining, Mrs. Lestrange." He couldn't help but smile. Considering the position they were in and what they'd been doing a moment ago, the use of formal address was rather ridiculous. But he would continue to follow her lead.

She was still in his lap, and it took her a few moments to realize this and then scramble away. She had a dainty hand over her mouth as she apologized again. "I didn't mean to—"

He stood, shrugging his robes back onto his shoulders. "Do not worry, witch. It's fine." He couldn't resist placing one last quick kiss on her pouting lips despite the audience. "You'd better go; your guests are waiting for you."

She nodded and turned, still blushing. Potter guided her from the room, his hand on the small of her back. Rolph watched her go with regret.

Snape remained behind, his dark eyes narrowed and focused on him. "Do attempt to control yourself in the future, Lestrange."

"Not all of us prefer a celibate lifestyle, though I doubt even you would be able to resist an armful of warm, willing witch for long. Or was the celibacy thing just one of your many lies, Snape?"

The ash wand was pressed into his neck before he could blink and he was reminded of just how vulnerable he was now. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing to taunt the spy he'd once called a friend. Of course he'd done many stupid things in his life.

The pale man leaned toward him so his prodigious nose brushed his own. "You will want to hold your tongue, Rolph," he hissed, "or you might just lose it."

He didn't flinch. Snape was a scary motherfucker and he definitely had the upper hand here, but if Rodolphus blinked now, he'd never get any peace in this house. "I'll keep that in mind, _Sev_," he responded, pointedly using the man's childhood nickname.

They stared at each other for a full minute before Snape stowed his wand and spun on his heel, leaving the room with his robes billowing.

Bloody dramatic bat.

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><p>AN: Thanks for the continued support of this story and your kind reviews! Though I cut about 300 words of content, I did my best to keep the overall emotions intact so my readers here wouldn't miss out. See my profile for a link to the uncut version.

Next up we'll have a reception...


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer:_ The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

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><p><strong><em>HJG-GLLMMPSSW just won't fit on the tea towels<em>**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Hermione could feel the heat in her cheeks as she stepped into the hall with Harry. She'd practically attacked Rodolphus. Well, actually, there was nothing practical about it. She _had_ attacked Rodolphus, and she would have stripped him naked if he'd let her.

She wasn't really paying attention to where Harry was leading her, only that it was a wing of the house she'd never seen before, though they were still on the ground floor. The Manor was ridiculously immense.

Strains of classical music grew louder as they walked and she assumed they were heading the right direction. After turning another corner, she could see the doors of the ballroom standing open, music and conversation spilling out of them. Before Harry could lead her to them, she asked, "Do I look all right?"

"You look like you've been snogging in the drawing room." His answer was terse and his posture tense.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, stopping in the hallway, forcing him to stop as well. "I certainly didn't intend to snog anyone."

Harry turned toward her, but his gaze was focused on a point over her shoulder. He took a deep breath and then sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking. Finally his eyes met hers. "I'm sorry. I'm being a jealous git. It's just…seeing you with him only a few minutes after you left my bed…it made me want to hit something. I hate that I have to share you."

She stepped closer to him and put a hand to his cheek. "I wish you didn't have to share me, Harry Potter, but I'm afraid that's the reality of the situation. You will always be the first in my heart, though. I'll have always loved you longest."

He covered her hand with his and drew it to his lips to kiss her fingertips. "I love you too, Hermione Potter." He bent down and claimed her lips then, kissing her deeply as if to replace the memory of Rodolphus' kiss with his own.

She was breathless when they broke apart, but luckily the Calming Draught was helping her stay in control.

His glasses were askew, but at least he was smiling when he said, "We'd better spruce you up a bit, or everyone will know what you've been up to." He waggled his eyebrows and then pulled her to a closed door across from the ballroom bearing a gold plaque labeling it as the Ladies' Retiring Room.

The spacious room was furnished with settees and fainting sofas in luxurious fabrics. Along one wall, there was a row of mirrors and an assortment of toiletries. On the far side of the room was another door which presumably led to the loo.

Hermione nearly shrieked when she saw herself, and the enchanted mirror responded with a motherly cluck. "Someone's been a naughty girl. Sneaking away for a tumble in the broom cupboard?"

She really loathed talking mirrors and pulled out her wand, tempted to hex it into pieces, but seven years bad luck might be too great a risk under her present circumstances. Instead she ignored the chatter and did her best to tame her tousled curls and reapply her lip gloss. There was little she could do for the color in her cheeks, but she could remove the creases from her dress.

A few moments later, she emerged to find Harry still waiting in the hall. Evidently the guests had all arrived and she'd be making a fashionably late entrance. When they stepped through the doors, an enchanted statue announced, "Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin First Class and The First Lady of Magic, Hermione Jane Granger Goyle-Lestrange-Longbottom-Malfoy-McLaggen-Potter- Shacklebolt-Snape-Weasley, Order of Merlin Second Class." The ballroom, where several dozen assembled guests were standing, was sunken by a half-dozen steps and so all eyes turned to see the bride with too many last names enter on Harry's arm. She could feel her cheeks color under the scrutiny and was actually thankful when Lucius came up the steps to claim her from Harry.

"Allow me to introduce you to some of my associates," he said as he tucked her arm in his and led her to a group of wizards standing near the foot of the stairs.

It had been decided to forego the traditional receiving line, and have each husband introduce their new wife to their own guests. And so Hermione spent the next hour passed from husband to husband being introduced, or reintroduced to government officials, prominent businessmen, friends and in-laws. Rodolphus had been right. It was tedious from the start.

First she met Malfoy's business associates and was shocked at the warmth of the welcome. She would have expected Lucius' acquaintances to be as bigoted as he. When she asked him about this as they left one group to speak with another, he told her they considered the alliance to be good for business. Evidently profits trumped blood purity.

Kingsley claimed her next, introducing her to his sole surviving relative, an elderly uncle, Amos, and several members of the Wizengamot and Ministry Department heads. Luckily Dolores Umbridge was no longer among this group, having been sacked for her anti-Muggleborn activities during the war, and only narrowly escaping serving time Azkaban. Still there were a few present that had not appreciated her activism against the Marriage Law and seemed a bit smug to see her succumb to the legislation she had so openly opposed. Still she managed to be polite and bite her tongue, Kingsley's warm hand resting on the small of her back helping her to remain calm.

As it turned out, her only living mother-in-law was Narcissa and her reception was less than warm when Draco reintroduced them, not that she was surprised. Draco's other friends, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Adrian Pucey were not overtly rude, but the past certainly made the introductions awkward. At least hexes weren't exchanged and there was no outright name-calling. She did catch Pansy giving Draco pitying looks, which she could only imagine were for his unfortunate luck in getting saddled with the know-it-all Mudblood.

Greg was sitting with the other young Slytherins, but he was keeping to himself. As she stood with Draco and made stilted small talk with his friends, he watched her silently, never joining in the conversation.

When he finally claimed her and led her away from the Slytherins, she asked if there was anyone in particular that he wanted her to meet.

He simply shook his head. "I don't have anyone left."

Sorrow swelled up in her as she paused and turned toward him, placing her hand on his chest. His heart thumped under her palm. "You have me," she murmured.

Gravely he slid his hand beneath hers and lifted it up to kiss the back. He didn't say anything else as he took her to Cormac, but she was learning that Greg said a great deal without words.

After meeting Cormac's supervisor and co-workers, she was introduced to Cagney McLaggen, her only father-in-law (aside from Lucius which was a disturbing thought she refused to dwell on). It was immediately apparent where Cormac got his looks, his arrogance and his lasciviousness. Five minutes in the wizard's company was enough to make her want to change into robes that covered her better, even perhaps a burqa. His eyes rarely moved higher than her décolletage and he held onto her hand for far longer than was appropriate.

What was even more disturbing was his very open and vocal criticism of his son. In front of the group of people Cormac had gathered to impress with his new bride and her famous connections, Cagney McLaggen said, "Always been a disappointment, Cormac has. Mediocre grades, poor showing on his NEWTS, dead-end Ministry job. Hell, he couldn't even make the first-string of his house Quidditch team. I was mighty surprised when he didn't just lie down an' die with the rest of the blighters during the sickness. Didn't figure he had the strength or the balls to fight it."

Hermione felt Cormac tense at her side. The others in the group shifted uncomfortably as well, some gasping at the crude, insensitive language. One wizard poorly hid a snide smile behind his hand. A couple sent sympathetic glances at her husband who was staring determinedly at the parquet floor. She wound her arm around his, finding his hand and squeezing it. It was the only comfort she could think to provide that didn't involve casting an Unforgivable during her wedding reception.

Oblivious to the discomfort he was causing, Cagney continued, "Seems like the boy has finally got something right. Not that he actually had anything to do with it." He lifted his glass in a toast to her. "Here's to the new Mrs. McLaggen, as pretty as my Maggie, may she rest in peace."

The group half-heartedly raised their glasses to the toast. Cormac drained his nearly full glass without offering her any, not that she could really blame him.

She'd known Cormac's mother, Maggie McLaggen, had passed when he was born and that he was an only child. It seemed he might remain that way. His father was one of the few wizards who had not been matched to a witch. When he started complaining, loudly, about how he was going to have to go to the Muggle world if he wanted to get laid, Severus finally came to her rescue.

Her face was still flaming, part in embarrassment and part in fury, as he presented her to Professors McGonagall, Slughorn and Flitwick. They greeted her enthusiastically. Aside from Firenze, who had declined his invitation, they were the only surviving professors. Hagrid survived the battle, but succumbed to the plague, and the others didn't even get that chance. Minerva, as she insisted Hermione call her, gushed like a girl about how lovely the ceremony was and what a beautiful bride she made.

Professor Slughorn was in his element at this event, with so many rich and famous rubbing elbows. He was quite impressed with her matches and repeatedly stated he'd always known she'd amount to greatness. "Imagine that," he said to Professor Flitwick with a giggle, "we taught the First Lady of Magic." She caught Severus rolling his eyes at that, not nearly as impressed with her new courtesy title.

Of her three former professors, only Slughorn was caught up in the marriage law. Minerva was just outside the age cut-off and Professor Flitwick's goblin ancestry excluded him altogether. The older potions professor pointed out his bride, Gerta Finkley, a buxom woman who was standing with Charlie Weasley at the moment, one of his co-husbands.

"Horace," Severus finally interrupted the older man's discourse on his bride's connection to several high-ranking Ministry officials, "I don't believe you've greeted Draco Malfoy's friends. Perhaps you can find out if any of them made as prodigious matches as you and I."

"Oh, that is a marvelous idea. I'll be certain to bring back all the details." The man bustled off, waving at the clutch of young Slytherins, leaving Hermione to sigh in relief.

Once the wizard was out of earshot, Severus muttered, "The only reason his bride knows so many politicians is because she ran a thriving escort service prior to the war."

Minerva frowned at Severus in response to his comment, but then her mouth quirked. "At least she'll have ample experience bedding pompous, overweight windbags."

Hermione snorted and clapped a hand to her mouth as the rest laughed heartily.

Soon she said goodbye to her professors and Severus led her away.

"The Calming Draught is still working?"

"I've not tackled you to the ground and attempted to snog you silly, so I'd say I'm doing well." The dark man raised an eyebrow in response to her cheek. She just smiled and added, "I am parched, though."

He motioned to a passing house-elf and snagged a glass of champagne, helping her drink from the glass as she now understood was the tradition, however awkward.

"Thank you," she told him when she'd drained half the glass, "I almost envy Mr. Lestrange for having a good excuse to miss this."

"You appear to be doing quite well, charming Lucius' investors and Kingsley's political adversaries."

"I'm going to need to brew a headache potion for the morning from all of the inane conversation I've made this evening."

"I can make some for you if you'd like. Kingsley's already recruited me to brew buckets of Calming Draught to make certain the others don't consummate their unions in the middle of the Ministry."

"Please do not overtax yourself, Severus. At least let me help."

He gave her a dark glare. "I'm feeling quite fine, wife. Better since I'm free from that wretched hospital room. I hardly need a Hogwarts dropout to hold my hand while I brew."

That stung. Somehow this man knew just how to strike at a person's most vulnerable places, and did so mercilessly. Her eyes prickled as she swallowed, and her voice quavered just slightly when she said, "I've helped supply St. Mungo's over the past few months and I've gotten used to brewing larger quantities of many standard potions. I thought I might ease your burden, but I'm certain you're right."

She turned to leave him, struggling to maintain her composure, but he caught her elbow, drawing her back. Staring at the snowy white cravat that wrapped around his scarred neck, she was unable to meet his eyes. "I apologize, Hermione. That was uncalled for."

"It's only the truth," she said. "I did not complete my training and now I won't get the chance. But why does it matter when my sole purpose in life is to be a broodmare."

"That isn't—"

"It is," she countered, interrupting him, her temper flaring, not only because he'd hurt her, but also because this situation was unfair no matter how she attempted to paint a happy face on it. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not make a scene in front of all these people."

She turned and walked toward a table of Gryffindors, needing friendly faces now more than ever. Neville got up when she approached and took her hand.

In a low voice, he asked, "Is everything all right?"

It took all her effort to give him a lopsided smile and shrug. "You know Severus. He can only go so long without insulting someone. It had been at least five minutes. He was overdue."

* * *

><p>Neville looked over her shoulder, staring at the tall, lean wizard who had been the bane of his existence throughout his years at Hogwarts. The Potions Master was looking back, unreadable as ever, and then turned in a swirl of robes to return to his seat with the other professors.<p>

Though he now knew Snape's true loyalties, it was still hard to forgive the wizard. He'd suffered more than most under the spy's reign as Headmaster and he'd been forced to put up with the wizard's insults for years before that.

But he wasn't a trembling little first year anymore.

He'd made up his mind to tell the great bat off, right here in the ballroom, when Hermione said, "Forget about it, Neville. That's what I plan to do. Please."

"I won't let him get away with being a bully, Hermione. I've had enough of it."

She put her hand on his chest, "Please don't fight. Not tonight. Besides, he already apologized."

"Really?" That had to be a first.

"Really. I wouldn't expect it to become a habit. I didn't exactly accept it with grace." She smiled, a real smile this time. He could tell because her tongue pressed against her teeth in a way he thought was rather appealing and her eyes crinkled at the corners.

There was a part of him, the twelve-year-old boy deep inside, that still got a little giddy when she turned that smile on him.

"Come on, Gran wants to say hello." Neville tucked her delicate hand in the crook of his arm and brought her to meet his guests, starting with his grandmother.

"Gran, you remember Hermione, my wife." Hermione held out her free hand to his grandmother who took it in her own withered one.

The older witch didn't let go. "I don't approve of your attitude toward Lestrange, girl," Gran said, pulling Hermione closer to her.

He groaned. His grandmother had spoken of little else since she'd arrived, but he thought he'd convinced her to let the subject drop. Obviously he was wrong.

Hermione's other hand tighten on his arm. "How do you mean?" she asked.

"I mean that you practically absolved him of his sins in front of the entire wizarding community. That's what I mean, missy."

"Respectfully, I think my relationship with my husband is my own affair, Madam Longbottom. Time has passed and his circumstances, and I believe even his attitude, have changed. I will judge him based on how he behaves in the here and now."

"You are a fool if you think he's anything more than a monster. And I never took you for a fool."

"I assure you, I haven't forgotten what he did or who he was and I realize his transgressions against your family are unforgivable. I would not ask you or Neville to change your opinions of him. In fact, if it were in my power, I'd spare your grandson from having to endure his presence at all. Unfortunately I cannot."

"But how do you think my Neville feels?"

To be honest, he wasn't even sure what he felt. He'd hated the man on principle since he was old enough to understand what had happened to his parents. But while he'd want his wife to be loyal to him, he could understand her dilemma.

"If Neville needed me to hate Mr. Lestrange, for his sake, I would do my best, even though I have found the man to be cooperative and civil thus far." She turned and looked at him then. "But I would hope he wouldn't ask such a thing of me considering Mr. Lestrange is to be the father of my children."

He intervened. "Hermione and I have already settled this, Gran. I will not put her in the middle. While she is my wife, she is also his. It's not fair to force her to choose between us. I'll keep my distance from him and he'll keep his distance from me and we'll manage."

"I just don't think it's right," his grandmother said, finally releasing Hermione's hand.

"None of this is right," Hermione said, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm not certain anything will be right ever again. At least not during our lifetimes. We will all endure for the good of the next generation and all the ones after. But since this is the only life I've got, I intend to make the best of it."

Gran eyed his wife for a long moment. "I still think that wizard will bring you nothing but pain and heartache."

"I'm truly sorry that is what he and his ilk have brought to you, Madam."

Gran waved her wrinkled hand to dismiss Hermione's apology and then she claimed to have spotted an old school chum across the room. She bustled off, moving much faster than her age would suggest she could.

"I'm sorry about that," he said the moment she left. He was used to being berated by his grandmother in public, but he didn't think Hermione should have to deal with it. Not today of all days.

"Don't worry about it, Neville. I don't blame her for her reaction. I wouldn't blame you if you were upset with me either. But I just don't know any better way to deal with this whole situation."

"I know and I'm not upset," he said, running his fingers over her hand where it rested on his arm. "Come on, let's say hello to the guys."

* * *

><p>Seamus and Dean both greeted her with enthusiasm, but it was only Seamus' prolonged hug that bordered on inappropriate. It took Harry and Neville both to get the Irish Gryffindor to finally let her go.<p>

Dean apologized. "Sorry, Hermione. He's had too many glasses of champagne."

"Don't worry, Dean. Lucius serves very fine champagne and his elves are generous with it." She turned to the tall blonde woman next to her classmate, she recognized her as being a couple years ahead, but she couldn't place the name. "I hope you're enjoying the party," she offered.

"Oh. Of course," Dean said, "Hermione, allow me to introduce Patricia Stimpson, my fiancée. Patricia, this is Hermione Granger…er…"

Hermione laughed as Dean tripped over the proper introduction. "I know. Too many last names to keep straight," she said grinning. "I'm planning to develop multiple personalities to go along with each name. Otherwise I might actually go insane. It's nice to meet you again, Patricia."

"Thank you for having me," the blonde said. "I have to say, you seem to be handling all of this quite well. I'd be terrified of half your husbands. I've only got two Slytherins, neither of them were Death Eaters, and still I'm not certain how I'll manage the nerves."

"Believe me I've had my moments over the past few days. It's helped me to talk to my friends and to talk to my husbands. And if you need a feminine perspective, I'd be happy to listen. I was actually thinking about getting all of the witches together soon to form sort of a support group. Besides I think we'll need to have a break from all these wizards on occasion. I know I will."

"I think that's a wonderful idea. It's been difficult for me. Both of my parents are gone and so are all of my close school friends."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, struck again by how many had been lost. It was easy to forget when standing in a room with all of the male Gryffindors from her class, all survivors of the war and the plague despite being closely associated with the Number One Undesirable, or maybe they all survived because of it. It was easy to forget that the rest of her class of Gryffindors, all of the witches, except her, were gone and not simply absent. "Those of us who've survived need to stick together. I'll owl you."

"Thanks, I look forward to it."

Harry claimed her next and brought her over to the Weasley's table.

She greeted each of the boys. Bill, handsome in spite of his scars, was kind but reserved. He had taken the loss of his wife and unborn child hard, as one would expect. Charlie's greeting was a bit more enthusiastic and he also introduced her to Gerta Finkley, the witch he would share with Slughorn.

If Hermione was feeling uncharitable, she'd say Madam Finkley was the kind of witch who had more boobs than brains. But that wouldn't be hard; it seemed like the woman was all chest. The buxom woman was also very excited to meet such a famous and important witch.

Evidently Madam Finkley and Professor Slughorn were a perfect match.

Percy was also escorting his intended, and it seemed the matching powers had been kind to him. He'd been seeing Penny Clearwater since the final battle and now he was set to marry her. The stick-in-the-mud Weasley was overly formal when he greeted her, addressing her as the First Lady. It seemed little changed. In contrast, George gave her a big hug and called her Stepmummy as she smacked him on the back of the head.

Ron gave her a hug too, but glanced coldly at Harry at her side and quickly moved off, claiming he needed to tell Dean something.

Before she could ask, Molly came up to them and gave Hermione one of her big hugs before drawing Hermione aside. "That was a lovely ceremony. I've never seen such strong binding magic. I understand it came with some side-effects." The motherly witch flashed a wicked smile.

The bride felt her cheeks flush. "I…uh…well, after…I thought they were all going to attack me at once. And honestly, I wouldn't have minded."

"Now that would have been a story to tell the grandkids."

"Molly!" Hermione gasped, equal parts horrified and amused.

The redhead grinned mischievously, a smile she recognized from many encounters with the twins, and leaned in closer. "So you went off with Harry. How was it?"

"Molly!" she said again, this time burying her face in her hands.

"I'm teasing you, child. Well, actually, I do want to know how it all went. Not the details, mind you. But it looks like I need to keep an eye on my youngest future husband."

Hermione looked up and grinned. "I think you may need to give him a spanking, Molly. He's been a bad boy." They both giggled, looking at the young Irish wizard, swaying slightly in his seat with glassy eyes.

"I'll have to send him to bed without supper if he doesn't sober up." Molly gave her an exasperated look before she bustled off to scold her wayward fiancé.

Hermione watched with amusement as the older witch took the younger wizard to task. That was going to be a challenging relationship, especially if Seamus insisted on acting his age.

"It looks like Molly has her hands full with that one," Arthur said, having come up behind her.

She turned and nodded. "I was thinking much the same thing. I'm not certain Seamus is mature enough to make it work."

Arthur tilted his head to the side and half-shrugged. "I'm sure they'll figure it out. If anyone can manage it, Molly can. Besides, fatherhood has a way of making a boy grow up."

"I'd have thought war would have accomplished the same ends," she said, shaking her head as her classmate was plied with coffee despite his protests.

"Everyone deals with trauma differently. Some become far too somber, as my Bill is doing, I'm afraid." Bill was sitting a bit apart from his brothers now, contemplating the pattern of the tablecloth as if it held the secrets of the universe. "Others become overly frivolous. I only hope that time can help them heal. You and your generation are all too young to have faced what you've suffered." He tucked a curl behind her ear.

She reached up and caught his hand before he could withdraw it, cradling it to her cheek. It was a strong hand, weathered by years, marked with faint scars, possibly the traces of spellfire, or perhaps the result of tinkering with Muggle technology he didn't quite understand. "I doubt there is any good age to endure war, and yet those who would wage it never seem to care," she said.

"Let us hope this is the beginning of a long era of peace, my dear. For us and our children and their children," he said with a lopsided smile. "We have all earned it."

For a moment she was struck with the urge to kiss him, to take comfort from him in a way she had never considered, but the moment passed before she could act on the impulse. He took her hand and rested it on his arm, saying, "It looks like everyone is taking their places for dinner."

Sure enough, people were taking their seats around the room and she allowed Arthur to escort her to her chair. She and her husbands were all seated at a long head table, and it had been decided that after each course, she would change seats so she could dine with each husband for part of the meal.

While she might not ever be comfortable owning house-elves, she had to admit they put on a fabulous feast with only a day's notice. The fish had been light and flakey and the quail was seasoned perfectly. The only problem was she didn't have her own plate. Not that her husbands were letting her go hungry, but it was a distracting way to eat to be certain. After she got past her initial embarrassment at being fed like a child, she started to notice how intimate the activity was. During the fish course she sat between Kingsley and Arthur. They had both angled their chairs toward her and took turns offering her bites. Arthur's leg was pressed against her and Kingsley's hand kept brushing her hair back and caressing her bare shoulder.

Then there were the looks. Kingsley's eyes lingered on her lips with each bite and she knew he was thinking about kissing her again. And she didn't think she'd mind. Arthur wasn't as bold, but she still noticed his quick glances and soft smiles.

For the second course, she shifted to sit between Neville and Cormac. It was largely uneventful, though McLaggen did manage to brush his arm against her breast every time he brought a forkful of succulent quail to her mouth.

It wasn't until the third course, which she shared between Harry and Lucius, that the trouble started. She didn't notice anything odd until Lucius' hand started trailing over her knee. He was more intent on watching her over the lip of his glass of burgundy than feeding her more of the mouthwatering Beef Wellington. When he offered her a sip from his glass, she noticed a bitter note to the red wine, but the heat of the alcohol soon superseded it.

In fact the room seemed to have suddenly grown quite warm.

Harry offered her a bite, but she refused it with a shake of her head, turning back to Lucius for another sip of wine. She was so thirsty and so hot.

The hand on her knee was only making her warmer and it was starting to make her feel a little tingly. Still, she didn't think anything was odd until Lucius managed to find bare skin.

He had lifted the hem of her long skirt and his fingers were now stroking her exposed knee. It was when she grabbed his hand, not to remove it, but to draw it farther up under her skirt that she realized there was something not quite right.

"Harry," she said, sounding as breathless as she felt, "I think the Calming Draught's worn off."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reading and being patient as I get my life in order. Things are going better, so I anticipate quicker updates in the next months. Hooray! Thanks for your support and reviews! I appreciate them very much.

Next up: Lucius and Hermione go at it in the ballroom. Just kidding. But they do go at it. ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer:_The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story._

**Please note:** This chapter has been altered slightly to conform to an M rating, without losing any important content. If you wish to read all the sexy (yet not entirely necessary) details, you may read the original version on Granger Enchanted. The link is in my profile. This is still an M version, so caution is advised for delicate readers.

* * *

><p><strong><em>After which Harry's nightmares are no longer of battle and death, but Lucius's white arse.<em>**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

It took a few moments for Hermione's statement to sink through the layers of champagne, fine food, and post-coital euphoria surrounding Harry's brain. There was no way the potion should have worn off yet. Snape had told him it would last at least four hours, and it hadn't been two. But he recognized the signs—fever-bright eyes, flushed cheeks, accelerated breathing, and Lucius Malfoy's hand up her skirt.

He stood and pulled Hermione to her feet. "I need to get you out of here before you do something you'll regret."

Lucius stood with her, his arm sliding around her waist. "I'm not the only one that needs to go," she said, visibly shivering as Lucius' fingers splayed over her side, brushing the underside of her breast.

"Shit. Malfoy," Harry hissed at the younger Malfoy male who was seated on the other side of his father. "Help me get your father and Hermione out of here."

"Why?" Draco asked before he too recognized the potential danger in this situation. He echoed Harry's expletive.

The blond linked his arm with his father and pulled, while Harry tugged his bride by her arm. Together they were able to get them up the stairs and out of the ballroom. However, even with the two of them, they didn't have the strength necessary to pull the couple away from each other. It took all they had to wrangle the pair into the ladies' loo, which was the closest door.

On the way, they happened across Ron, and Harry asked him to fetch Snape. If there was anyone who could help Hermione, it was the Potions Master.

It only got worse when they got to the private room. Heedless of their audience, Lucius immediately turned to Hermione and caught her lips in a kiss that apparently involved sucking her entire face into his mouth. One hand covered her breast, kneading the lush orb that was trying to spill out of her dress in response, while the other grabbed a handful of fabric in the back and was drawing her skirt up.

To Harry's dismay, Hermione only encouraged him, clutching Lucius closer as she returned his kiss.

The older blond guided her backward as he kissed her until they reached the counter. He lifted her so she perched on the edge, his lips never leaving hers. With her skirt bunched up around her waist, he stepped between her legs while she wrapped one leg up around his hip to bring him closer.

Her hands sifted through the long strands of blond hair as Malfoy ground against her and dipped a hand beneath the neckline of her dress. Between kisses, he said, "I haven't been able to think of anything but your breasts for the past two hours, and I've been aroused since yesterday, you tease. Even with the Calming Draught."

"That is not something I ever wanted to know," Draco remarked, his eyes wide with horrified curiosity.

Harry nodded in agreement, feeling a bit dazed by the whole thing. He wanted to look away, really, but it was like watching a traffic accident or animals mating in the wild. It was gruesome, and arousing, and impossible not to stare. "Hermione is going to have to _obliviate_ my memory of this, or I might not eat again."

"You and me both," the blond said, and Harry couldn't help but feel they'd shared a moment of mutual commiseration that mended years of House rivalries and petty schoolyard disputes.

* * *

><p>Ron was returning from the loo when Draco and Harry passed, practically dragging Mr. Malfoy and Hermione behind them.<p>

"Get Snape," Harry said—no ordered—as he shoved open the door to the witch's toilets. Ron was mighty tempted to ignore the demand and go back to his dinner. But there was something wrong. Lucius Malfoy, cool and aloof, had been pawing at Hermione. Like he'd suddenly taken a love potion or something.

Ron returned to the ballroom, glanced longingly at the half-eaten filet of beef and flakey pastry sitting at his place, and walked across to Snape's table.

Harry really had some nerve telling him what to do and just expecting him to comply. Especially after what his so-called best friend did.

At first, Ron hadn't thought anything of the fact that Harry escorted Hermione into the ballroom after the rest of the guests and other husbands had arrived. In fact, he probably wouldn't have realized the real reason for their late arrival if it hadn't been for Seamus.

He'd been standing with the other Gryffindors when the pair was announced and Lucius swept Hermione off to meet the stuffy bunch of wizards over in his corner of the room. Harry made his way to them, smiling widely as he greeted his schoolmates.

Seamus took one look at the beaming wizard and said, "Blimey, Harry. Looks like you got laid already."

When Harry turned Gryffindor red Ron knew Seamus had the right of it. He wanted to walk away, but for some reason it was like his feet had been hit with a sticking charm.

"Merlin, Harry," Dean said in a low voice, "couldn't you wait till after the reception?"

"Not really." Harry glanced at Ron before looking back at Dean, tugging at the high collar of his dress robes. "You'll see. The binding magic is kind of intense."

"So how was it, mate?" Seamus asked, nudging Ron in the ribs before adding, "I always thought she was a fine thing. I'll bet she was wild in the sack—the brainy ones usually are."

"No way I'm telling you lot. Have you met my wife? I don't want to end up a newt," Harry said with a laugh and a dramatic shudder.

Harry wouldn't say any more on the subject despite Dean's questions and Seamus' teasing, but those green eyes followed Hermione's progress around the room and nothing could wipe the stupid grin from his face.

For Hermione's sake, Ron was doing his best to be supportive and put on a brave front for the public and the press, but it was hard. Right now it was especially hard to watch his best friends act smitten while his own heart was breaking.

In the years he'd known her, Hermione Granger had gone from a bossy, bushy-haired little girl to a beautiful, though still bossy, woman. Somehow in that time, he stopped wanting to fight with the girl and started wanting to snog her. When he realized she fancied him too, he expected they'd end up together.

And for one brief moment, they were.

Their kiss during the final battle was like something from a storybook his mum would read him as a kid. It should have been the start of their happily-ever-after.

But then Fred died, and it didn't seem right for him to be happy when his family was so miserable. Then Ginny got sick, and it didn't seem right to be in love when his sister was dying and his best friend was grieving. And then the rest of the world got sick, or so it seemed, and there wasn't time to think about love and sex and marriage. He'd thought there would be time for that when things were back to normal.

The problem was he'd run out of time, and there was no such thing as normal.

He probably should have been happy to have that one fairytale moment to hold onto while he spent the next years married to his ugly cow of a future wife. But he couldn't help but resent Harry and Neville and even his own dad for getting the one thing in this world that he'd considered his.

Hermione used to be his, but today he'd given her away.

If it wasn't bad enough that he had to give up the woman of his dreams in exchange for a chubby, fifteen-year-old Hufflepuff, now he had to sit and watch how great his life could have been.

It was enough to turn the fancy meal to ash in his mouth and drive him from the ballroom for some air.

How could he sit there and watch these wizards fawning over the witch of his dreams? How could he overlook the way her hand circled his father's wrist every time she wrapped her lips around his fork? How could he not notice Kingsley play with her silky curls between sips of champagne? How could he avoid watching Neville offer her a bite of the baby chicken from their second course, teasing her with it before finally letting her take it? How could he pay no attention to that prat, Cormac, as he brushed a drop of wine from the corner of her mouth and sucked it into his own?

And how could he ignore the sexually-charged looks that passed between her and Harry as she hummed her enjoyment of the meal. They looked happy, and they were completely oblivious to the fact that it was making him miserable.

He knew their friendship would never be the same again.

And yet when Harry Potter said, "Levitate," Ron asked, "How high?"

Ron almost turned around fifteen times as he crossed the ballroom to get Snape, but in the end he did as Harry demanded.

That was just how the world worked. Harry was the hero. He killed the bad guy, got the girl, and lived happily-ever-after.

And the side-kick was kicked aside.

* * *

><p>Her eyes opened and through a slit, Hermione saw Draco and Harry transfixed as Lucius teased her.<p>

Behind them, Severus entered.

"What happened, Potter? The Calming Draught should have lasted for another two hours."

"Don't know. Hermione just told me she thought the draught was wearing off, and we got them out of there before they started going at it on the dinner table."

"This is only slightly less disturbing," the younger blond said. "It's like they've been dosed with a lust potion."

Severus approached the pair. Once he got closer, he drew one elegant finger down over her shoulder. Hermione turned to capture the digit with her mouth, whimpering when he pulled it away.

"Not a lust potion," Severus said, backing up. "If it was, she would only be interested in him or the first male to catch her attention."

"They don't make a general potion?"

"Merlin, Potter. Did you learn nothing during the years I was forced to endure you in my class? Lust potions are always specific. There are some potions that generally increase sexual arousal, but they don't have any of the other symptoms."

"What symptoms?" Draco asked.

"Well, neither has stripped naked yet."

"Thank Merlin for that. If I see Malfoy's lily-white arse, I'm definitely getting _obliviated_," Harry said.

"Do be serious for a moment," the Potions Master responded.

"I'm being deadly serious."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did they eat or drink anything odd?"

"I don't think so," Harry answered.

"The wine tasted a bit off," she said, panting and arching her back as Lucius latched onto a dark pink nipple.

"One of you two, stop gawking and bring me the wine goblet. I'm guessing it's a simple neutralizing potion, but I'd rather be sure."

"I'm not leaving her alone with him," Harry said.

"Bloody voyeur," Snape accused. "Are you planning to chaperone all of her conjugal relations?"

"Only the ones when she's being taken advantage of because someone slipped her something."

"Draco," Severus barked, "get me the bloody wine goblet before the elves clear the table."

Lucius appeared to be completely disregarding the other men in the room and now had the top of her dress completely unfastened and peeled down.

She leaned back so her head rested against the mirror.

"I knew you were a naughty witch," the enchanted mirror said, "and with the Master of the house no less."

"Shut up you bint, or you'll end up in the grottiest public loo I can find." She fisted Malfoy's hair and pulled his head back so she could kiss him again.

Draco returned with the half-finished glass of red wine and Severus passed his wand over the surface and then over the pair of them.

"You're not supposed to be using magic," she told the Potions Master between kisses, then she squealed as Malfoy bit her earlobe while slipping his fingers beneath the edge of her knickers.

"Perhaps you should pay attention to what you're doing and leave me—"

His advice was cut off by her moan as Lucius' fingers moved in her. In her ear, he whispered, "That's right, poppet. So tight. I can't wait to be inside you."

Her response was an inarticulate groan as his fingers pumped deeper, and his thumb brushed her sensitive center.

Severus waved his wand over the two of them again. "It is a neutralizing potion, as I predicted. It appears Lucius ingested ten times the dose as Miss Granger. Her system should be clear of the potion in a quarter hour, but Lucius will not be able to take more Calming Draught for at least two hours."

She caught Severus' free hand and brought it to her mouth for a kiss before pressing it to the mound of her breast. His long fingers flexed, pressing into her flesh before he jerked his hand away, ignoring her whimper of protest.

"It is best to let them satisfy the binding magic now. That will calm Lucius, and Miss Granger can take another dose of Calming Draught in about a half-hour." He took a vial of the light blue potion from his robes and set it beside the couple before retreating. "We should give them some privacy."

"I don't like it," Harry said. "She isn't in her right mind."

"She's as much in her right mind now as she was when she went off with you, Potter."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry returned.

Lucius grabbed the potion vial in his free hand and then wrapped that arm around her waist, saying, "Hold tight, poppet."

With a twirl and a crack, their location shifted from the ladies' lounge to an elegantly decorated bedroom, done in soothing taupe and cream. There was an enormous four-poster bed, settee, and two wingback chairs in front of a large fireplace.

Without the counter to support her weight, Lucius wasn't strong enough to hold her any longer. Before he lost his grip on her, he dropped to his knees right where they appeared—on a plush area rug in front of the fire. He laid her back, her dress still half on, but bunched around her waist leaving her long, slim legs—and what lay between—exposed to him.

She writhed in anticipation as he drew off her knickers.

For a moment, he stared at her. "Such a pretty pussy for a Mudblood."

Hermione leaned up, aggravated by the delay more than the slur. She wrapped her fist around his long blond hair and pulled his face to hers. "Quit teasing me, you great inbred arse, and fuck me, or I'll find another husband who will."

His lips crashed into hers, and he used his superior weight to press her back into the floor, settling his clothed form on top of her. "Oh, I'll fuck you all right, my little Mudblood. I'll fuck you so hard you'll feel it for a week."

She kissed him hard and then snagged his lip between her teeth, not breaking the skin, but it was enough to get his attention. Around his lip she said, "Stop calling me that. In fact, stop talking altogether, and fuck me." She arched into him and released his lip, scraping her teeth over the tender skin.

Lucius fumbled with the fastening on his trousers while taking her lips in a bruising kiss.

"You asked for it, poppet."

"Give me more," she ordered, panting.

He smirked when she groaned, but the pain quickly bloomed into pleasure.

* * *

><p>He stilled as the little witch screamed in ecstasy, holding back his own end. He wanted to savor her for a little longer.<p>

She was truly a thing of beauty, creamy white skin with pink accents in all of his favorite places. So young and tight. So wild and wanton.

She looked up at him with passion darkened eyes, a small satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Ready for more, poppet?" he asked.

"Hmm," she agreed, quivering as he teased her. "More."

He paused, enjoying her whimper of protest. "Maybe if you ask nicely."

Her eyes narrowed. "Stop fucking around, and fuck me, Lucius."

So stubborn and fiery. She refused to bend, and there was a part of him that liked that about her. Who was he kidding? Denying her meant denying himself, and he wasn't one for self-sacrifice. There would be time to win this battle of wills later. For now he'd concede. "Close enough," he said before increasing his pace.

It felt like an eternity and yet too soon, she arched back, eyes closed, gasping as her second climax rolled over her. The pleasure was indescribable, and he was pulled along with her into bliss.

When his arms were shaking too badly to hold him, he collapsed beside her.

For the longest time, he lay next to his wife, heart racing, and breath shallow.

As his body recovered from the strenuous exercise, his mind regained some clarity. He was fairly certain Severus said someone slipped neutralizing potion in his glass. But who and why? Certainly it wasn't the witch lying on the rug beside him with her eyes closed, and her legs lewdly sprawled exactly where he'd left them.

But she was the only one who came anywhere near his glass except for the house-elf who brought it to him.

Maybe it was a simple practical joke. That one Weasley boy made a living at that sort of thing. But considering it could have brought his new bride just as much embarrassment—that didn't seem like a very amusing prank.

Maybe the wine was meant for someone else. The Minister might have a rival who would like to see him humiliated in public. He wouldn't put it past the press to orchestrate such a thing just for a juicy headline either.

Lucius wasn't sure how that potion ended up in his wine, but he was thankful they were able to get away from the party before they did anything too scandalous. His reputation could hardly handle it.

The witch shifted, tugging at her crumpled dress to cover herself. She rolled onto her side, facing him. "I was thinking—it's suspicious how that potion got in your glass. That could have been a disaster."

He turned his head to look at her, surprised her thoughts had gone in the same direction as his. "I agree. I can't determine how it happened or why."

"Do you have any enemies?" She laughed before he could respond, clearly deciding the answer was obvious. "I mean, do you have any enemies that wouldn't care about my reputation either?"

"There are a great many that dislike me either for betraying the Death Eaters or for being one in the first place, but there are few here tonight that had access to my drink and enough knowledge of the situation to know that I was on a Calming Draught. Lestrange would be one that jumps to mind."

"No way," she responded quickly, "I can't believe Mr. Lestrange would do that to me. Besides how would he sneak it into your cup without magic?"

"Do not be so naïve as to think Mr. Lestrange cares about your feelings, poppet. He was a loyal Death Eater for a reason. And as to how he did it, I can only assume he tricked or bribed a house-elf."

She shook her head. "I don't believe it. There has to be someone else that has the motive, or perhaps it was meant as a harmless prank."

He groaned as he sat up, fastening his trousers. It didn't feel so harmless to his aching body. "It could have been incredibly damaging. If Potter and Draco hadn't gotten us out of the room…"

She sat up too, pulling her wand to summon her lingerie. "Perhaps the person didn't realize how intense the situation was and just wanted to see you and I snog in front of the party. I could imagine a few who would think that was funny and a few others who would enjoy embarrassing me."

"For their sake, I hope I do not find that one of your imbecilic Gryffindor friends was behind this. I'd hate to have to curse someone you care for."

"Don't worry. There wouldn't anything left of them for you to curse after I finished." Her pretty brown eyes were narrowed with malice, and he quite believed she would carry out her threat. The idea of the world's Golden Girl plotting revenge was an intriguing one.

She wore a devilish smile for a moment before she shook her head and asked, "Is there somewhere that I can clean up? We ought to get back down to the party."

He got to his feet, knee joints creaking in protest, straightening his robes as he did. Once up, he offered his hand to the petite witch who was clutching her loosened bodice to her breasts. "Your quarters are this way." He led her across the room, through his sitting area to a set of tall double doors that opened onto a similar sitting area in the connecting suite, which was typically occupied by the mistress of Malfoy Manor.

For a moment, he couldn't form words when he saw the state of the sitting room. It was completely bare, devoid of all furnishings and ornaments. Even the wallpaper had been peeled off, leaving barren, scarred walls. The only things that remained were the light fixtures, probably because his evil cunt of an ex-wife couldn't figure out how to remove them. "That bitch," he muttered, pressing his clenched fist to his leg to keep from putting it through one of the nude walls.

His new bride did not comment as he turned in a circle to survey the damage. He opened the door into the bedroom and saw it had received similar treatment. The walk-in closet had been completely dismantled, though there was one lone hanger lying abandoned in the corner. The paper had been ripped from the bathroom walls as well, the mirror was missing above the sink and the shower was left without a curtain. It appeared that some effort had been made to pull up the imported Rosa Aurora marble tiles from the floor, but the act had been abandoned as futile after the removal of only one of the large, expensive squares.

Lucius walked back through the hollow, echoing rooms to find the girl standing where he'd left her. She was watching him with a sad, sympathetic look on her face.

He cleared his throat of the emotion that was pressing on him. Betrayal. While it was true that he and Narcissa had not been on the best of terms recently, they had been married for over two decades. He'd hoped they could at least remain cordial. Finally he said, "I apologize for the state of your rooms, Mrs. Malfoy. It appears that the former occupant removed more than I'd intended when she relocated. I'll get workers in here tomorrow to repair the damages and you can furnish it however you wish."

She stepped forward, one hand still holding up her dress, the other she set on his arm. "It'll be fine. From what I can see of the old wallpaper, it probably wasn't my taste anyway. I suppose this clears up the mystery of who spiked your drink."

"It certainly makes her the number one suspect. I apologize that you are caught in the middle of this feud."

"It's not your fault. I can't say I blame Narcissa either. If I were in her position, I'd be angry too. Though I hope I wouldn't be this petty."

"I should send her off to one of the smaller estates. She may be justified in her anger, but we should not have to bear the brunt of it. We did not choose this."

"No, don't send her away. It would upset Draco, and it wouldn't do your reputation any good."

He clenched his jaw, annoyed at the truth in her words. There was no doubt his ex-wife would publicly vilify him if he packed her off to one of his other, smaller houses. By keeping her here, he at least had the threat of throwing her out to hold over her head. His shoulders slumped with a sigh. Still he would have to have a conversation with Narcissa before the bitch of a witch got it into her head to damage any more of his property.

* * *

><p>Hermione stood in the shower of the lavish Master bathroom, allowing the hot water to ease the aches after her romp with Lucius. He'd invited her to use his amenities since hers were in no fit state.<p>

She was grateful for the chance to get some privacy to collect herself and her thoughts. It was awkward dealing with the aftermath of such an intimate event, especially when the sex had been so wild and uninhibited. Her actions and her words were shocking. It wasn't like her to be so wanton or demanding. Maybe it was just the effect of the binding magic. The drive to satisfy it seemed to grow more desperate the longer it was resisted.

But it was more than just that. She'd quite enjoyed the sex. The violence and passion seemed natural. She and Lucius didn't have a tender relationship. They had loathing barely restrained by courtesy and perhaps a physical attraction. For an older man, Lucius Malfoy was rather foxy.

And he knew how to use the gifts Merlin gave him. He drove her crazy with his lips and his hands and his other…manly parts. She had been desperate for him. Hell, she really didn't even mind when he called her _that_ name as long as he didn't stop moving.

But even in her desperation, she wouldn't yield all of the power to him. She refused to beg. Evidently the binding magic didn't have the strength to make her.

In the end, she couldn't help but feel she held her ground against the blonde Death Eater in this latest skirmish. Though if he kept letting the M-word slip, she'd hex him inside out.

An elf had been called to help restore her gown, and once she'd finished in the shower, Totsy helped redress her hair. In no time she was ready to return to the party, except she was tired and a bit sore. Lucius had been rough, just as she'd asked, and she would be feeling it for some time, just as he'd predicted.

When she emerged from the bath, he was sitting in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire and the shaggy, white carpet where only a brief time ago, they'd consummated their marriage with fervor.

"Do you have the Calming Draught?" she asked, startling him from his contemplations. He slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the blue vial, handing it to her without comment.

"Thank you," she said, keeping her eyes on him as she drank the bitter potion straight from the bottle. He was staring into the fire blindly.

After the silence grew too uncomfortable for her to bear, she asked, "You don't happen to have a pain potion? You made good on your promise."

The corner of his mouth curled in an arrogant little smirk, but he reached out and brushed his hand over her arm in a soothing gesture. "I do apologize for losing control, poppet."

"I wasn't complaining. Besides, I was out of control right along with you."

"Yes, but your body isn't yet used to such things. I should have been mindful of that."

She shrugged. "If you've got a pain potion, all will be forgiven." He raised one perfectly manicured blond brow. "Well not _all_, but you know what I mean."

He smiled again and then called for Totsy to bring the potion. Immediately she felt better, though she could still use a nap.

Lucius got out of the chair, knee joints popping. It was her turn to smirk.

When he saw her expression, he grumbled, "Next time I'll ensure we make it to the bed."

She was giggling as he escorted her back to the ballroom.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Before you throw tomatoes because of Lucius saying the M-word, please give him time to get over being a bigoted Death Eater. It will be an isolated incident and he was a bit out of control (and he actually apologizes for it - in a subtle Slytherin way). I hope you all will stick with me as Lucius evolves into a more lovable guy.

Thank you for the lovely reviews! I really appreciate them all, and it motivates me to see that other people are enjoying this story. You can even tell me how much you hated Lucius in this chapter...as long as you promise to come back for more! Or you can tell me how hot you think Lucius is 'cause you like him a little nasty. Or you can tell me something else. I love to hear from you!

The version at Granger Enchanted is one chapter ahead, so if you can't wait, go over there to read ahead. I had someone say my last chapter seemed familiar - I'm guessing they read it already at GE. I promise you, this story is completely a product of my own imagination (as inspired by JKR of course).

Okay, time to end the epic A/N. Does anyone actually read these things? I doubt it, so time for something completely random-pumpernickle.

**NEXT UP: Draco gets his turn...**


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